In Between
by Spasticatt
Summary: This story takes place "In Between" Uncanny Avengers 5 & 6, after the end of the Gambit series. Rogue had just accidentally killed Wonder Man's brother. I'm using a bit of artistic license here to imply that a day passes between that point and when Thor and Sunfire have to rescue Rio de Janeiro from space wreckage/ Rogue kills Scarlet Witch. Be kind, this is my first fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

She didn't remember how long she had wandered aimlessly before ending up on a bench in south Central Park, watching the swans from the depths of her bulky, dark gray hoodie. Once the police had finally left and the yelling match died down, she'd grabbed the first change of clothes she could find and rabbited out the back door before the team leader could forbid her to leave the Mansion. Not that any of them were capable of actually _enforcing_ house arrest if she didn't agree to it, but this time she had no desire to cause more conflict with her angry 'coworkers'. The level of tension and mistrust in that damned house was stifling enough already without picking yet another fight.

Sighing disgustedly, she focused instead on the way the summer sunlight rippled around the large white birds as they gracefully maneuvered between paddle boats filled with smiling tourists. Willow trees lazily dipped their branches in the water, reaching for hidden mysteries amongst the pond scum. A painting came to mind as she studied the idyllic scene before her: _Ophelia_, by John Everett Millais. The serene expression on the young woman's pale face as she floated into the sweet black water of oblivion, finally freed from her madness, seemed like a tempting way to flip fate the metaphorical finger and escape the crushing sadness of life.

_Must be nice not to deal with __love and loss anymore,_ the lone woman thought morosely. A handsome blond man parked himself next to her, uninvited. She tensed in an automatic reaction to his presence.

After a minute of silence he casually remarked, "For somebody who doesn't want to be found, you're doing a lousy job of hiding."

Sparing only the briefest of glances at the interloper, she growled, "I ain't hiding, leave me alone. Don't want to talk to you."

"Most people don't, unless it's to tell me I'm doing things wrong," said the fellow, with a self-depreciating ring to his voice. "Although I'm sure most of the time I probably am."

"Today you're definitely calling the wrong shots." Rogue hissed, staring angrily at an imaginary point in the distance. There was steel in her tone as she continued, "One day you're telling Cap that he's wrong to want me out of the public eye 'cause of my ancient rap sheet, then the next day you're saying that I need to lay low because I stopped a terrorist on national TV! And of course there's the icing on the cake: You get the _brilliant_ idea to tell me to spy on my ex in FRONT of his batshit crazy daughter! That ain't just low, that's hateful. Thought we were friends, Havok."

He leaned in front of her, deliberately breaching her personal space as he twisted around to peek under her hood and over her sunglasses. Eyes as blue as Alaskan ice bored into hers, concern etched in lines around his frown. Right now he wasn't Havok, leader of X-Men and Avengers: He was just Alex Summers, concerned fellow mutant and old comrade in arms. "We _are_ friends! I just thought that since you seem to know Mags the best, you would be okay with finding out what he's up to. I know you guys had a thing going for a few months and haven't really had much time to talk since then...I figured I'd give you an excuse to go say hi."

Rogue ripped off her shades and stared at him in furious disbelief, errant strands of long white hair falling across her forehead. Alex flinched at the intensity of her glare and quickly leaned back against the bench.

"And say what? _ 'Oh hey, how ya been since we broke up? By the way, are ya plottin' anything evil at the moment that you wanna tell me about?'_ What the **HELL** are you thinkin,' ya dummy?!"

"Well I…I…it's just.." His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he struggled to think of calming words. She was absolutely terrifying when she was this pissed, and he wasn't about to end up in a month long coma. He gulped and took a deep breath, his chest puffing out to ridiculous proportions.

"It's just that you're being such a miserable jerk lately that I thought maybe sending you to see someone who used to 'comfort' you might put you in a better mood and everybody at the mansion might forget your attitude if you were gone for a while and you'd come back and be your happy old self plus we need Intel and I'm not too sure what the best way to get it is and with what happened with the Professor and now Simon's brother... and..." He exhaled it all in one shot, wheezing when he ran out of breath.

Havok felt guilty. He had talked the X-Men's spunky southern powerhouse into joining the Unity Squad by convincing her that they were going to be the epitome of Xavier's dream, a mixed species team to rally humans and mutants into learning peaceful coexistence. Rogue hadn't fit well from the start. So used to being a strong, independent leader of teammates that she could trust not to judge her, it had been a considerable blow to her ego to be reduced to a barely tolerated pariah in a unit of overbearing super heroes. Xavier's many students were a close (if dysfunctional) family, a trait missing from the drama filled high school known as the Unity Squad. Unlike the genuine article, they were overflowing with divas- all of whom were practically at each other's throats during any given moment of the day. At this rate, their ragtag bunch would never aspire to the worldwide respect of the Avengers. For the younger Summers brother, trying to force everyone to get along was like trying to herd cats; it was beginning to look like more of an impossibility with every fight and botched mission.

Her snarl had lessened to a grimace, appreciating his honesty if not accepting it. "Number one, I don't need any hugs or pats on the back. Even if I did need some 'comforting', as ya seem to think, Erik ain't even on mah list of potential cuddle bunnies. Two, I don't give a _rat's ass_ what those pretentious losers think a' me. I'm here for two reasons: because I want Charlie's dream to work more than anything, and to make sure that psycho bitch doesn't pull another mutant genocide stunt."

"It's not like they haven't tried to be friendly with you, though!" Alex argued unhappily, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. "Wasp is mouthy but she means well. You'd probably like her ideas on progressive fashion designs if you'd give her half a chance. Thor is actually fun to be around-have you seen how much that guy loves to party?! Hell, even Wanda tried to save your life at Xavier's funeral. She seems truly sorry for what she did, although we all know she's trying to make up for something that can't be forgiven. But what's her alternative, to just give up and stop working towards fixing the shit she caused? I understand why you don't trust her but come on, Rogue! I...I've never seen you so withdrawn and hostile like this. You always used to find a way to bring everyone together...you used to have such a love of life, no matter how bad things got."

Instead of sarcastically snapping at him like she wanted to, she sighed grumpily and folded her arms over her chest. Her history with Alex went way back- almost a decade's worth of fighting beside and against each other. She knew him well enough to tell when he was genuinely concerned and when he was blowing smoke up someone's ass, and right now he was truly worried about her.

"Look here, sugar, I'm not gonna go spy on Erik. Find someone else to get you that kinda dirt. I really _do _feel terrible about killing Simon's brother. Even though he forgave me, I just don't want to be around that place right now and see him so sad. But I ain't gonna sit on the sidelines when there are so many megalomaniacs trying to kill us all. Just give me a night to myself and I promise I'll come back tomorrow and try to play nice, okay?"

The beatific smile that lit up his thin face reminded her of a school boy who had just heard the last class bell of the day. She favored him with a small smile in return, thinking that this emotional display was just one more thing to set him apart from his infamous brother; Scott was never this joyful. Without hesitation Alex reached out and put his bare hand over Rogue's gloved fingers, an act that would cause fear in more than a few people.

"I promise to try harder and make them understand what it's like to be us, pal," he said warmly, referring broadly to the animosity that mutants faced on a daily basis.

"Good luck with that," she drawled, patting his knuckles with her free hand.

She felt a little better just cheering him up. He was nervous taking on so much responsibility, trying to be the hero that his brother used to be. Once upon a time, Scott Summers had been the X-Men's golden child, and they had all considered him the epitome of Charles Xavier's bright legacy to the world. But that was before he absorbed the deadly Phoenix force that had consumed his late wife. After succumbing to the horrible galactic temptation, all he had left behind was a shattered, disheartened mutant family, and irreparable damage to human/mutant relations. Determined to right the wrongs caused by his sibling, his brave little brother was trying his damndest to show humanity that tolerance and compassion was still a viable option. Glancing beyond Alex, Rogue spied a group of teenagers throwing a softball around in the field by the edge of the pond. Her expression softened.

"Remember how we used to play baseball alla time in the Outback? Man, I miss those days."

He turned to follow her gaze and whistled as a hotshot young black teen leapt up unnaturally high to catch the ball. The kid was probably X-gene positive, though his friends either didn't notice or didn't care. They were just being children and enjoying a summer day.

"Bet we could take 'em..." Havok speculated with obvious amusement, wiggling his blond eyebrows expectantly.

"Pfff, I'm done pickin' on children, I did it long enough at the institute," she said jokingly as the bridge of her slightly upturned nose crinkled in amusement; she was referring to her stint as a teacher at the Jean Grey Academy. "Y'all go right on ahead though, I think I'd enjoy watching you git your butt handed to you by a thirteen year old with braces."

"I beat _your _ass plenty of times!" He huffed indignantly. "But you have a good point; maybe I'll suggest we play some b-ball or something with the whole squad to blow off some steam."

Now she was glaring at him again, genuine malice in her eyes. He started at the sudden change in her demeanor, frantically wondering what he'd said to deserve such a heated look.

"I don't like basketball and you know it."

Havok slapped his hand to his forehead and grinned cheekily. "Oh yeahhhh, I forgot. You haven't played since that 'incident' ages ago -the one where you guys broke the no powers rule! You got totally _owned, _didn't you?"

"Boy, you are **really** steppin' on my last nerve today, ain't ya?" Shoving his shoulder hard, she pushed him off the iron bench and he fell into a sniggering, crumpled heap. She hated being reminded of that damned game. "If I still had Carol's powers, you'd be flying first class to Jersey City for that one. With_OUT_ a plane."

"Okay, okay, I can take a hint," he chuckled as he stood up and dusted himself off, noticing the bright white circular pattern on the chest of his black uniform was peeping out of his jacket. He hurriedly zipped up his leather bomber to cover it.

Looking down at his teammate as he smoothed his tawny locks back into place, he added, "So I'll see you tomorrow, then? Call me if you need me, and keep an eye out for Skull's goons. One of the reporters mentioned that there had been sightings in Queens this morning. Promise me you'll stay safe, Anna."

Rogue gave her word and fist bumped him in a sisterly way, and then watched as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and wandered down the shady path towards Avengers Mansion. She settled back into her spot and contemplated the conversation. Being a petty, vindictive bitch really wasn't her style. However, the hopelessness she'd been feeling was hardly conducive to building healthy work relationships.

_Relationships, ha. More trouble than they're worth. _ She grouched. _The moxy on that boy! Suggestin' that getting' laid is the answer to mah problems. There's a typical man answer for ya: Bad day at the office? Go get you some lovin'! Car broke down? Hell, maybe the mechanic will give you a 'ride'! Just accidentally killed the brother of a team mate who you can't stand? Hunt down your ex and do the dance with no pants! Feh, Morons, all of 'em. _

Fuming, she tried to focus on the other aspects of what Alex had said, but her distracted mind wandered back to that fateful basketball game years ago. It had been her and Wolverine versus Jubilee and a cocky newcomer on the court behind the stately old Westchester manor that they'd called home. The scruffy Cajun loner was a friend of Storm's, so everyone tolerated him for the weather Goddess' sake... even though no one trusted him as far as they could spit. Rogue had tried to be friendly, secretly grateful to hear another southern accent around the house- despite the fact that his particular dialect made him sound like Pepe LePew with a mouthful of marbles. At least her lilting Mississippi inflection was endearing. Up to that point in time, she hadn't had any real reason to dislike the guy. Once she had realized he was not only disregarding the "No Powers" stipulation of their game, however, but doing so in such a flagrantly disrespectful fashion, her temper had flared and she'd called him out on being a cheater. The only thing that had burned more brightly then her anger was the explosion from the kinetically charged basketball that sent her crashing through huge bay window of the upstairs library. Such underhanded retaliation wasn't enough for the jerk; he had dramatically scooped her out of the rubble just to gloat and bent her over his knee as if he were some kind of twisted Rhett Butler. She had been torn between homicidal rage and being truly aroused for the first time in her young life. It wasn't until he was so up close and in her face, all sultry promise and thinly veiled innuendo, that she'd realized just how unbelievably handsome he was. Then the jackass tried to steal a kiss, and the urge to deck him won out over her raging hormones. She'd tempered the blow, though, cracking her fist across his jaw just hard enough to rattle his teeth. And he had _STILL_ asked her out! (1)

_Ahhh, Remy. Ah shoulda hit ya harder, ya rotten snake_. Passersby couldn't help glancing at the hooded figure hunched over on a bench, her hand over her mouth as she covered an involuntary smile.

Gambit had texted her that morning after the disastrous P.R. statement went horrifically awry, asking if she was okay. Of course the national media was having a field day with the footage, playing it non-stop on all the major channels. While she was grateful that he still cared, she hadn't replied to him. Or to Kitty, Rachel, and everyone else who had tried to contact her. It was too upsetting to talk to anyone after she had accidentally broken the neck of Wonder Man's sick and twisted brother, the Grim Reaper, during a rousing, yet controversial, speech by Alex. The psychopath had been trying to kill her teammate, the Scarlet Witch, on national TV, and Rogue kicked herself for even trying to stop him. Remembering the look on Simon's face as his brother died dampened her spirits once more. She wondered what the Professor would have thought of her.

Almost instantly, she felt like retching as a familiar image flashed across her mind's eye. It was a memory that had caused her to wake in a cold sweat every single night since she'd been kidnapped from Xavier's funeral. The last time she had seen the man who ultimately taught her control of her cursed power, his desecrated corpse was lying on a cold morgue slab, the peaceful expression of his death mask marred by his flayed open skull. Rogue fought to control the stinging in her eyes and willed herself not to cry in public. (2)

_Maybe Alex was kinda right. Ah could definitely use a distraction at least. _

The phone was in her hand before she even realized what she was doing. Looking down at it, she entered the lock code and fired off a text message before she could doubt herself.

.

_I admit I only picked up Uncanny Avengers because Rogue has been my hero since I was 12. The first few issues were intriguing enough to hold my interest, even though it pained me to see the other characters continuously referring to her as 'white trash' and treating her like she was below them. Fast forward to Thanksgiving of 2013, when UA #15 came out…__Rick Remender, the writer of UA (hisses), all but admits NOW, in March of 2014, that Rogue was just a plot device- and he treated her as such instead of explaining her motives__. I_ wish I could 'thank' him for darkening my holiday with a swift kick to the unmentionables. _I was so upset that he portrayed Rogue in such a ridiculously out of character fashion that I felt the need to justify her actions in my own way...and throw in some good ol' fashioned romance to boot. Gambit has been treated far better in the comics for the last year, but I've never been happy with all the on-again, off-again crap that the editors put them through. Every now and then an artist and/or a writer slips a 'Romy' moment under the radar, and it gives me hope. *Salutes Mr. Asmus and Mr. Mann for the tender moments in Gambit #11, 12 and 17, which brought me back to the X-Men fold after 6 years of not picking up a single issue, and Mr. Chris Claremont for his bittersweet alternate universe tale of a married Rogue &amp; Gambit in 'X-Men: The End'. So anyway! Here's what I wish had happened before Rogue kicked the bucket- I hope you enjoy. Constructive criticism is always welcome, and thank you for reading!_

_1) If you have never read X-Men #4, you should probably stop reading this fanfic right now and go find it. For the record, I never thought Gambit was cheating. Rogue was just being pissy because her team was losing to a teenage brat and a devilishly handsome jackass._

_2) Uncanny Avengers #2. Poor Professor X :(_


	2. Chapter 2

Downtown Manhattan occasionally reminded Gambit of home, especially on hot, sunny days like this one. The usual 'New York minute' attitude was more lax as residents slowed down to seek relief from the oppressive summer heat. Unlike New Orleans, however, where the locals were more accustomed to the humidity, here the people were less friendly to one another; cabbies were more violent, pedestrians more crabby, and the street performers that he enjoyed so much were all but non-existent. Despite the dour attitude of the locals, there was a spring in his step as he did his most mundane of necessary chores: Grocery shopping. Raiding the fresh mango bin at the open air market a block from his apartment in the East Village, he nimbly ducked through the many crowded stalls -a graceful acrobat in a sea of slow moving slugs. The cute redheaded cashier with all the freckles was on duty, and she giggled coquettishly when he dazzled her with one of his charming smiles. He already had her number; maybe tonight he'd finally give her a call. Classes at the Jean Grey School for Higher Learning were about to begin again after a long summer break and he had been putting off grading papers until it couldn't be ignored any longer...yet he here he was instead, out and about, looking for any excuse to avoid responsibility and enjoy the weather. Life was good today, stupid chores be damned. The liquor store was his next stop, and he bought an extra pack of beer with the idea that grading final exams would be far more entertaining if he was drunk. (1)

He was on his way back to the apartment when a jazzy trombone note bleated from his right pants pocket. Shifting the paper bag to his left arm, he read the text from his ex-girlfriend. She had finally gotten around to replying to the concerned inquiry he'd fired off this morning after watching the news.

"Been better. U in town? Could use a friend," it stated simply.

_Huh. Odd. _ Most of the time her messages would run on so long that it felt like he was interpreting a book. He didn't need his passive empathic ability to read between the lines; for Rogue to ask for companionship meant that either an alien imposter had gotten ahold of her phone or she was pretty damn depressed.

_Fantastique. So much for an enjoyable evenin'_, he grumbled to himself. Ever since he had refused her invitation to join the Avengers, they had kept their distance from one another. An indignant part of his subconscious immediately tried to throw a tantrum, balking at the notion of having to be a sympathetic friend instead of entertaining more pleasurable activities for the night. Shaking his head from side to side, he slid the phone back into his pocket with a resigned air.

Almost as soon as he was through the titanium lined front door to his small apartment, he was besieged by three small, hungry monsters. The orange hairball was halfway up his pants leg, mewling pitifully, before he was able to get the can of cat food open.

"Descendez-vous chat fou! (Get down, you crazy cat)" he almost shrieked as the kitten's sharp claws came dangerously close to stabbing through the crotch of his jeans. Gripping Lucifer by the scruff of the neck, he pried the little beast away from the family jewels and set him on the floor with the food. "Merde. You'd think I never feed you ungrateful wretches." (2)

Putting the beer in the fridge and chucking the bag on the floor for the cats to play with, he tried to talk himself out of lying to Rogue and telling her he was out of town. _There are few things more painful than spendin' time with an ex who put you in the friend zone, _he reminded himself for what seemed like the thousandth time. It would be so much more rewarding to wine and dine a woman who would actually enjoy his company instead of one who was constantly, although unintentionally, finding new ways to torture him.

After half an hour of weighing options, he realized he was being unfair. Rogue had always been there when he'd needed a friendly shoulder to lean on, even at the risk of pissing off her boyfriend. His inherent good nature finally won over and he picked up his phone, ready to admit that he had no set plans for the evening. It was the truth: He'd taken care of his Thieves Guild business earlier in the week.

"Yah. I'm in nyc for 3 more days. Wanna do something?" He texted her.

The reply was almost instantaneous. "God yes. Let's get in some trouble."

Okay, he wasn't expecting that. Far be it for him of all people to preach against rash actions, but he wasn't about to work his way back onto the World's most wanted list so soon- especially not after the hell he'd gone through to get off of it. With the overwhelming amount of bad press she'd gotten into this morning, he had thought she would be more sensible about lying low as well.

"Where R U?" He hit send after typing, wondering what she was playing at.

"Central Park, by bow bridge."

"Give me an hour?"

"I'll be here. Thanks, sugar."

The inflection from the last message made him smile. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

She had grown tired of doing her brooding gargoyle impression and set out on a slow walk in an attempt to invigorate her numbed legs and butt. More than anything, she missed being able to soar amongst the clouds, especially since being able to fly away from the problem at hand was so much easier than trying to deal with it head on. Wolverine would have let her borrow the Jeep or his old Harley if she'd asked, but to be honest, she didn't feel like sitting in traffic. Enduring the closeness of strangers on public transit wasn't an option either. Her skin was tingling, a warning sign that her emotional state was taxing the fine control over her power. People watching usually helped alleviate her paranoia; she took comfort in the mundane actions of oblivious people doing oblivious things. In the last few years, it seemed like every other day was a new villain to defeat, another betrayal to be dealt with. Observing the blissfully ignorant was rapidly becoming the number one way to reassure herself that yes, it was still possible to have a normal life. Today had been a bad idea, though; having to be constantly on guard for paparazzi, super villains and careless tourists had quickly eroded the small amount of composure she had left.

_Shoulda gone to a pet store or the zoo,_ she frowned as yet another ill-mannered foreign visitor bumped into her elbow. Making her way to the bridge, she flattened her body up against the stone banister. It was while she was throwing fifty cents worth of feed to the lone black swan that a random yellow daisy appeared to her right, its cheerful face seeming to float on the edge of her peripheral vision.

"You scowl any harder an' your face is goin' to stick like dat."

The flower's stem was delicately pinched between Gambit's outstretched thumb and forefinger as he casually leaned on his other elbow against the railing, his body just close enough to imply a degree of intimacy but far enough away to be respectable. Clad in a vintage, bay colored biker jacket, faded T-shirt and ripped jeans that were snug in all the right places, he exuded easy confidence without sticking out in a crowd. Although he'd always been obnoxiously handsome, today it would have been easy to mistake him for an undercover celebrity. The designer shades, stylishly disheveled chestnut hair pulled back into a mini ponytail and devil-may-care grin added to the effect; hell, he could have been a GQ model.

This fact was not lost on the lady joggers who looked back at him over their shoulders as they passed by. Over the years Rogue had become accustomed to women gawking at the outrageous Cajun and no longer felt the surge of jealous insecurity that had once plagued her whenever they went out in public together. Besides, she knew full well that when she wasn't dressed like bum she'd caused more than a few inattentive men to walk into poles and doors. Depression notwithstanding, she couldn't help smiling at the charming Cajun.

He'd been wondering if a hug would be inappropriate, given the awkwardness that existed between them since she'd quit the school, but after seeing the wounded look in her tired eyes he instinctively held his arms out in open invitation. Rogue hugged him as though gravity might fail at any moment and send her spinning off into space. He squeezed her tightly in return, his neck bent slightly so that they touched cheek to cheek, and savored the fact that he was one of a select few people in the universe who was allowed to touch her so casually. Momentarily intoxicated by the heady scent of his aftershave and cologne, she vaguely noted that he was clean shaven (for once!) and blissfully closed her eyes.

"Hey, chere." He said softly against her ear.

_Holy hell, she look like a damn ghost! _was his shocked thought upon observing her ashen complexion. She had always sported sassy curves and a breathtaking hourglass figure; now she seemed so fragile that he was afraid she might break if he held her too long. Hiding in an oversized sweatshirt (that appeared ready to swallow her at any moment) and her beat up old cowboy boots, the only giveaway that there was a body underneath all that frump were the form fitting, boot cut levi's that hinted at a shapely ass.

"Hi yourself, swamp rat. Although today I'm more inclined to think of you as mah knight in shining armor," she said, reluctantly releasing her grip on his ribcage.

Rubbing her arms from elbow to shoulders and back in a comradely fashion, he laughed, trying like crazy to ignore the dullness in her usually sunny tone. "Funny thing about dat...when I was in London working with Pete Wisdom, I got trapped on Avalon for a few days. You know, 'Otherworld', or whatever everyone calls it? Technically speakin', I actually AM a knight!" (3)

"I believe it," she said as she took the daisy and twirled it a few times before tucking it behind her ear without removing her hood. "Hope you got a fast horse, Sir LeBeau."

Gambit beamed, mentally patting himself on the back instead of grimacing at how she was in full 'turtle' mode as she slid on her favorite green tinted sunglasses. "Jus' got a new one, as a matter of fact. Actually bought it fair and square, too. Well, mostly fair. Salesman owed me a favor."

Languidly draping his arm around her shoulder, he steered her in the direction of the parking lot at the end of the path, eager to show off his brand new motorcycle. She tentatively put her hand on the small of his back and calmed her screaming nerves into submission.

"Woooo honey! Is that a Breakout?" She acknowledged appreciatively when he stood next to his new Harley with his hands on his hips and chest jutting out proudly. The motorcycle gleamed fire, the afternoon sunlight highlighting the metallic flake in the reddish orange pearl paint. The frame was a glossy black and the rest was doused in a liberal amount of chrome. He already had it outfitted with detachable bags and backrests.

"Damn straight! Magnifique, eh?"

"Sure is!" She admired the motorcycle with the trained eye of a master mechanic. With a sly sidelong glance, she added, "I get to drive it, right?"

"Pfff, I don' think so, madamoiselle!" He snorted, grateful to hear that there was still some spunkiness hiding in this shell of person. "I wouldn' trust nobody but you to work on it, though."

She pretended to pout, and on impulse he found himself reaching over to gently tug her heavy hood back. He half expected bats to fly out as he asked, "Ain't you hot in there?"

Gasping as her curly auburn hair sprung forth, she clamped her hands over her ivory bangs and looked around wildly as though she was expecting an attack.

"REMY!" She exploded, whipping the cloth back over her head and glaring at him. "There are paparazzi _everywhere_!"

"Désolé! (sorry!)" He apologized, scanning the area but finding that no one had noticed. Rogue was jumpy, looking like she would fly away...if she still could. He reached for her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Hey! Hey, it's okay, Anna. Calm down, ain't no one actin' like a maniac here but you."

Now that she was a member of what was supposed to be a nationally respected super hero team, it was a stinging blow to have to conceal who she was. The white skunk streak was her most prized, uniquely defining attribute. Taking a few deep breaths once she realized that no one was coming after her with a camera or blunt object, she turned a mournful face to her concerned rescuer. "I'm sorry. You were just tryin' to be, well, you. It just really sucks, havin' to hide who I am."

Gambit leaned down so that they were almost mouth to mouth, and for one crazy moment she thought he was going to kiss her. Instead, he pulled his sunglasses down slightly with the tip of his finger and exposed the one mutant trait that would have kept him from becoming any model, especially GQ material. Blood red irises glinting in sharp contrast to his black schleras, he said sarcastically, "Tell me 'bout it."

_Oh, those eyes. How could anyone ever think that they ain't beautiful?! _ Rogue's breath hitched in her throat, and she immediately realized her faux pas. He saw the flicker of embarrassment in her expression and winked, letting her know that he didn't take offense, then slid the glasses back into place before she could stammer out an apology.

"Now then, m'lady! Is there anywhere in particular you would like to go?" the Cajun exclaimed grandly, the bike's springs creaking as he slipped onto his seat. He patted the space behind him.

She swung a leg up over the leather cushion, pulling the strings to her hoodie tight and hooking her arms around his waist as she buried her face in the space between his shoulder blades.

"Anywhere but here, sugar."

* * *

_Still reading? Yayyy! Thank you!_

_1) At the end of the X-Men Legacy run and all of the Gambit series, Remy was teaching Art History and Sex Ed at the Jean Grey Academy. He wasn't overly fond of it, and lost all interest once Rogue left the school. See Gambit #17 for the hilarious interaction between Professor LeBeau, Professor Kitty and Headmaster Wolverine ;) (Side note I forgot to mention last chapter: Rogue also taught there, but she was in charge of History and team dynamics coaching. Why on Earth she didn't teach Automotive and Gambit didn't teach Savate/Bojutsu is beyond me, because I bet they both would've enjoyed their teaching positions a LOT more.)_

_2) Gambit's kittens: Oliver (gray), Figaro (white seal point) and Lucifer (Orange). The kind folks at CBR pointed out to my dumb ass that they're all named after Disney cat characters, because Gambit is a closet nerd. _

_3) Gambit #14, where he proves to be the bane of Pete Wisdom's existence and we learn that the closet nerd has also read all of the Harry Potter books._


	3. Chapter 3

The thrum of the Harley's engine was soothing, and after a while she started paying more attention to the rolling Long Island countryside instead of the grainy swirl patterns in the material of his jacket. The Expressway traffic was thinning out the further they got from the city, clusters of bustling towns giving way to farmland and expanses of forest. Hanging just above the horizon, the sun seemed reluctant to turn in for the night. She wondered how long it had been since she'd been home and frowned. 'Home' was a relative word -she didn't have a set address or even a specific area that she could call her own anymore. To her, home was the Mississippi countryside; the warmhearted hospitality of small town folk, breaded and fried _everything_ washed down with cold, homemade 'shine, a tire swing over the river on a hazy afternoon...all the laid back and lazy things that residents in the Northern half of the US simply didn't have time for. Finding that she couldn't recall a visit south of the Mason Dixon that didn't involve drama or X-men, she sighed.

_Gonna have to rectify that soon. _She looked at the back of Gambit's head and whimsically thought of asking if he'd want to catch a plane instead of gallivanting off into the sunset. Travelling anywhere with him was always entertaining, but she doubted that he'd want to spend his free time indulging her like he had when they were dating. For the last month he had been making lame excuses not to hang out, until she'd pretty much given up on getting him to talk at all. It was humbling that he'd been gracious enough to make time for her tonight, although she was sure it was more out of sympathy than an actual desire for her company. He was savvy enough to know that if she skipped town without warning, her team could suffer potentially disastrous effects. Presumably that was his reason for heading to the furthest point on the island: they would be far away enough from the hustle of the city but close enough to respond if she were needed. The sight of the Montauk Park welcome sign confirmed her theory. In short order the pine trees thinned out and dispersed altogether, the desolate road dead-ending on a barren spit of land that protruded dramatically out into the Atlantic Ocean.

Gambit actually had several reasons for bringing her out so far, the most important being that he wanted to analyze her state of mind more carefully before unleashing her on the general populace. Rogue's mercurial temperament was mostly a by-product of having to deal with so many conflicting psyches for nearly all of her adult life. It was only recently that she'd learned enough fine control over her power to take only certain attributes of whomever she touched, instead of knocking them out cold and stealing their personalities as well as their powers. The rest of her attitude...well, that just came with the territory, he thought wryly. Hence the two hour ride; he figured that would be plenty of time to calm her frayed nerves and hopefully put her in a better mood. Maneuvering the bike around the half-full parking lot, he chose the furthest spot to lessen the likelihood of dents from careless visitors.

"Thought you were gonna keep drivin' into the ocean," she joked, stretching her stiff muscles after clambering down from her seat.

"Maybe I should have...looks to be a nice night for skinny dippin'," he offered suggestively, then deliberated a moment to see how she would react to open flirting.

She didn't rise to his baiting, merely huffing a noncommittal noise and rummaging through the saddlebags without asking. He looked at her suspiciously and was glad that he wasn't hiding any sensitive stolen objects for a change.

"Ahh hah!" She exclaimed when she found his torn and faded red baseball hat. Sliding it onto her head as she pulled back her hood, she was careful not to dislodge any telltale white hair. She twisted the remaining mess of cinnamon curls into a loose ponytail. The daisy was long gone, a victim of the same driving wind that had brightened her cheeks to a more pleasant pink. He was mildly amused to see her sporting the gold hoop earrings that she used to wear constantly.

"You were right, Ah was hot as hell in there. 'Bout drowned mahself!" Unzipping, Rogue stripped off her sweatshirt and flapped it vigorously several times.

When she turned to acknowledge him, the corner of her mouth quirked up at the way Gambit's gaze was riveted on her crinkled cotton camisole. Embroidered with sparkling iridescent beads around the plunging neckline, the lacy v-shaped hem exposed a surprising amount of her pale back and toned stomach. What caught his attention, though, was that the cream-colored fabric clung damply to her midriff and exposed the lines of her nude colored bra. The appreciative glint in his eye was flattering, but she was in no mood to flirt.

Snapping her fingers in his face as she fluffed the fabric away from her sweaty skin, she chided her rude ex-boyfriend. "Mah eyes are up here, gumbo."

"Yah…you, ahh, you could enter a wet t-shirt contest if you keep dat thing on any longer," he exclaimed. His head whipped up to find her scowling, and the wicked smile that had been forming dispersed instantly. "Old habits are kinda hard to kick, chere..."

Rolling her eyes, she tentatively peeled off her kidskin gloves and tucked them into the bag with the hoodie. "Y'all behave or else Ah'm gonna be the one doin' the kickin'. Knights are supposed to be chivalrous."

"Absolument ma dame. Après vous, (Absolutely, my lady. After you)" he retorted politely, mock bowing and gesturing for her to go first down the path to the grassy knoll that overlooked the ocean.

He had been expecting a smile at the very least but was disappointed; she merely acquiesced with a nod and started walking. Pursing his lips in consternation, he followed after her and tried not to notice the sway of her hips. The hypnotic charm he wielded so indifferently rarely worked on her but it didn't stop him from trying. For a long time he had been forcing himself to acclimate to a life without her in it simply because he couldn't handle being "just a friend" anymore. It was so much less painful when he didn't have to physically see her, although sticking to that principle required near constant distractions. Unfortunately, they were the kind of distractions that landed him on 'Most Wanted' lists. Since the brief few moments when he had held her in Central Park he had been inundated with memories of happier times, however, and it was only with serious difficulty that he was able to push them to the back of his mind.

_Ironic, _he thought as he trudged along, _she's the one who __**takes**__ memories, not gives them. _

They sat on the dewy grass in companionable silence for a while, observing the setting sun as it painted vivid pinkish orange strokes across the cerulean sky. It was surreal to watch the emerging stars and know that they had both seen them up close, far closer than any astronaut would ever see. As the shadow from the towering candy cane-striped lighthouse reached closer to them, Rogue leaned back on her elbows and asked, "You remember when we used to sit on the beach an' do this just about every night...?"

Gambit kept his focus on the darkening sky, absentmindedly picking blades of crabgrass from the area around where he had sprawled out. At length he answered softly, "As if I could forget."

_That was brilliant, ya dumbass. Don't bring up the past! _ She awkwardly changed the subject. "Pity we didn't bring any wine. Ah could go for gettin' a lil' hammered tonight. Might even make me sociable enough for some dancin'."

Glancing his way when he snorted in response, she was surprised to find him smirking at nothing. "Wha...what's so funny?"

"Your accent comes out more when I'm around. 'Nother two minutes and you probably gonna be hunting crawdads wit' your bare hands and singing 'Sweet Home Alabama'," he chuckled, still deliberately refusing to make eye contact as he folded his arms behind his head.

"Pshaww," she snorted, exaggerating her southern inflection. "Like ya don't turn into one a' them 'Swamp People' hillbillies when Ah'm near ya. Quit tryin' ta change the subject."

He inhaled slowly and then breathed out in a measured pace, thinking, _Here we go…_

"You sure bein' a drunken social butterfly is a good idea right now? I know this morning was an accident, but still, over the last few years I'm noticing dat you don't show hardly any remorse after killing, whether it's by accident or on purpose," Gambit said in a monotone, cringing inwardly as the words left his mouth.

Under happier circumstances, drinking tended to make her wildly uninhibited and a total hoot to be around. However, when Rogue tried to drown sorrow or anger with alcohol she almost always ended up picking a fight with whatever unlucky soul happened to be within reach. More often than not, that someone happened to be him. Getting drunk and starting a bar brawl was the kind of thing he'd do with Wolverine. They'd laugh off the bruises and busted bones like it was nothing, because in the end that's exactly what it was; Just two friends blowing off steam. With her it was a different story; either he was biting his tongue to keep from saying something regretful or trying to keep her from trouncing whatever moron provoked her- no matter how much that moron might deserve the ass kicking.

"Ah can't believe Ah'm hearing this! Mr. Reckless himself, the Prince of Thieves, tellin' _me _Ah shouldn't have a good time because of an accident? Ah did what had to be done and Ah'd do it again in a heartbeat," she seethed.

Even though she was fully cognizant of the fact that her social behavior should exemplify the moral guidelines of the Avengers Unity Squad, having to play by such strict rules grated on her naturally rebellious soul. With the wily Cajun by her side she thought she'd feel more like her old carefree self. Instead, he was trying to subtly manipulate her with guilt, and doing a horrible job at that. Looking out for her well-being was admirable, being a hypocrite was not.

"Numéro un, I am the _King_ of Thieves now, and numéro deux, I'm not _tellin_' you to do anything. I remember you being all bent outta shape when you killed that Goth homme. You agonized dat you were turnin' into y' momma for days until you came to grips wit' what happened, and you sure didn't wanna paint the town red back then. Hell, you even tried to kill _her_, too!" he said tersely. In a more understanding tone, he added, "'Legacy' wouldn't have treated the dead so lightly. It just ain't like you to be partying after killin' a man…even if he was a bad person. " (1)

Rogue's fingers clawed into the ground, ripping up sizeable chunks of dirt as her eyes narrowed at the mention of her one-time alter ego. Gambit tensed. _Maybe if I play possum she won't kill me..._

"Legacy" had developed during one of the mind bending escapades that the X-Men had been subjected to. Rogue had become a self-appointed angel of mercy, helping to ease the passing of fellow mutants with her power and taking their memories unto herself so that they would live on in a spiritual form. Her teammates had been terrified of her, calling her "Reaper", even though she had tried desperately to make them understand that she was only trying to help. In the end, Gambit had been the only one who believed in her and helped them all break free of the epic mind f*** that Charles Xavier's wayward son had inadvertently created for them. Ironic then, that she had killed an actual Grim Reaper today. (2)

Gambit was calculating just how quickly he could get back to his bike when she exhaled explosively and flung two fistfuls of turf into the ocean, then flopped down on her back. The baseball hat popped off of her head, her skunk streak glimmering silver against the grass in the encroaching twilight.

"At what point in time did you start becoming the voice of moral guidance and Ah started being the impulsive idjit?" she huffed dejectedly. "And to think, Ah'm the one who had to tell mah team all kinda lies to cover _your_ dumbass escapades. Ah couldn't even look Barton in the eye when Ah gave back the ID card you stole from him!" (3)

His small smile at Hawkeye's wrath rapidly turned upside down. "Yeah, well, when life kicks your ass as much as it's been kickin' mine lately, you might find y'self standing back and wondering if you're doing things for the right reasons."

"So you actually DO have reasons for doing the dopey things you do?" She sniped teasingly. A moment later she abruptly turned on her side to face him and exclaimed, "Waitaminnit- _King_? Did something happen to Jean Luc?!"

_Holy delayed reaction, Batman, _he laughed to himself. Rogue would never admit it, but she had a soft spot for his manipulative foster father that never ceased to amaze him. She adored most of his Thieves Guild family as well, admiring the intense and traditional bonds that bound them together, and most of them returned the sentiment in kind. The last time she had gone to New Orleans with him, he'd nearly had to pry Mercy off her with a stick. He wasn't sure they genuinely liked Rogue as much as they enjoyed having her in their city, simply because her presence riled the Assassins Guild to no end. Belladonna, his ex-wife and leader of the rival clan, had supposedly gotten so worked up at one point that her own second-in-command had risked demotion by slipping a roofie into her wine to prevent an all-out bloodbath and breaking of the peace treaty. That had been years ago, but it didn't stop his adoptive family from asking about the Mississippi marauder's wellbeing every time he went home to visit.

"He's fine, although he's looking more an' more like Captain Morgan since he started hanging out in the tropics." (4)

Rogue waited patiently, indicating that she wanted to know more. Eyeing her keenly, he weighed just how much more information would be safe to admit without indicting her in his affairs.

"All the guilds across the world been crossing into…unacceptable… territory lately, an' it's gotten past the point that he can keep them in order by himself. Things be getting darker and dirtier all the time, all the new blood don't want to stick to the old ways. Thieves honor and whatnot, y'know? I had to undertake a pretty shitty test to prove that I could handle this new bunch."

"Ahh. Is _that_ what that prison thing was all about? Were you goin' through a second tilling or something?" she asked, referring to the Guild's brutal rite of passage.

"Something like dat, yeah. Nobody was playing by the rules, though, so I didn't either."

"Well that makes SOO much more sense than me tellin' everyone that you were breaking into a maximum security prison to stop a criminal arms dealer from blowing up the world."

He barked out a short laugh at her testy tone. "Oh Dieu, woman- you always tryin' to make me look like the hero that I ain't. Don't ever change, chere; otherwise my reputation might actually catch up t' me."

"Like that'll ever happen. No one bought it anyway- most of all of them hate me."

"If I know your stubborn ass, you're probably not giving them much of a choice."

She smiled mirthlessly at that. "Cain't say Ah blame them for it. Saying '_Oh hey, would y'all mind helping me spring mah ex-boyfriend outta jail_?' went over real well. You shoulda seen Cap's face, Ah thought he was gonna explode. They all think Ah'm white trash as it is."

"Riiight. Because white trash reads Dostoyevsky and Poe. You earn y' keep in blood and busted knuckles more than any of them self-righteous hypocrites," he snorted derisively.

_So he DOES understand_, she thought smugly. A salty breeze ruffled her hair and she looked up at the stars twinkling through the darkened velvet sky as her tone dropped an octave.

"Ah really do need to get out and enjoy life tonight, Remy. To do something cheerful, remind me that there's more to the world than death and drama… and not think about what happened today. Ah seem to remember a certain Cajun always braggin' about lettin' the good times roll, an' you ain't ever been one to let life hold you down for long. So are you up for a little fun tonight or are you gonna hold me hostage out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"Chere, I'll be _**up**_ for anything you wanna do, especially if it involves 'holding you hostage'," he implied breezily, double entendres hinting at how he'd prefer to spend the evening. "Whatchu you got in mind?"

"Oh, Ah don't know...at first Ah thought us breaking into someplace would be fun, but ya right: Being brash right now is courting disaster. Dancing is sounding better and better. Maybe some place loud and obnoxious and where no one would notice me would be fine," she said, trying to ignore his sleazy suggestions. She briefly recalled her recent skirmish and escape from the Red Skull's henchmen, slipping free of her shackles thanks to a bondage game trick that she had learned from Gambit during one of their kinkier bedroom experiments. "Although that reminds me- Ah owe you a beer." (5)

"Qoi? To what do I owe the honor?"

"Well, let's just say that something I learned from you helped me get out of a sticky situation," she replied cryptically. The corners of her mouth twitched and a faint blush ghosted her cheekbones for a moment. Although he didn't catch the physical evidence because she'd bashfully turned her face away from him, he picked up on the subtle shift in her tone like a hawk might detect a mouse under a foot of fallen leaves.

"Drinking and dancing it is, then," he stated matter-of-factly, as he briefly researched options on his phone. He was already forming a game plan that would keep her from getting too riled up. Maybe even grateful enough to let him through her defenses and enjoy a date like they used to.

~o0o~

_1) Remember during X-Men: Messiah Complex when Rogue was in a coma, her powers mutated into an instantaneous 'death-touch', and Mystique held baby Hope to Rogue's bare skin to cure her? Rogue tried to kill her then for putting an innocent child at risk. Before all that happened, Rogue had asked for Mystique to be on her team, as she knew that her foster mother would turn on them at some point and wanted to be the one to take her out when it happened. Rogue keeping an her mother and being ready to kill her at a moment's notice is an interesting parallel between Rogue and the Scarlet Witch in Uncanny Avengers. Gotta say, the girl's gut instinct has been right on the money!_

_2)_ _Age of X storyline. Excellent read and Mann's artwork was gorgeous, if I do say so myself._

_3) A + X #3, Hawkeye vs Gambit. Otherwise known as the Nerd Wars, lol. (Still laughing over the 'Sweetums' and 'Katniss' references)_

_4) Captain Morgan is another hero of mine, and not just for the rum (although I'm pretty sure I've come close to singlehandedly keeping them in business a time or two). I squee'd like a mofo when I saw Jean Luc's new look in Gambit #16 &amp; 17, and again in X-Factor #3. _

_5) THIS IS THE ONLY THING REMENDER HAS DONE THAT I THOROUGHLY ENJOYED! Uncanny Avengers #2, when Rogue steals the water-based powers of one of her captors. And I quote, "Establish a connection—borrow a neighborly cup o' super-powers with a touch. Next up—get wet. Thank Remy LeBeau for all those kinky bondage drinking games." Finally! __**Finally**__ someone admits what most Romy fans have always expected, that the Southern Belle and the Cajun were into S&amp;M! I about died laughing :3_


	4. Chapter 4

The bar Gambit chose was not large by any standard, but was artfully decorated in a modern country theme and promised unforgettable barbecue. Years of carousing around New York in his off time from the X-men had familiarized him with most every bar and restaurant on the island. He had brought Laura and Jubilee here to the town of Riverhead for dinner once, and although Jubes had griped that "country bumpkin wasn't her style", she'd still enjoyed the food and generally cheerful atmosphere. Laura had been indifferent, as usual, but he noted that they had made it through the evening without her popping her claws or decking anyone -which meant that Rogue should do fine as well.

_It can't be healthy to be gauging bars by how they affect a seventeen year old Wolverine clone, _he mused after he had pocketed his keys and disabled the motorcycle using a hidden fingerprint recognition reader. His friend Fence had installed a complicated alarm system for him as a gift, but not before ribbing him mercilessly about buying the Harley instead of stealing it.

Rogue was back in her hoodie, looking considerably more relaxed but still hiding under the baseball cap. He crossed his arms and fixed her with a stern look.

"What?"

"You might'a been able to get away with it in the park, but you gonna look conspicuous as all hell in a busy restaurant, femme. The hat's bad enough. You best lose dat parka if you're serious 'bout blending in." His tone was adamant.

"It ain't that obvious!"

"You goin' to rob the place?"

"Aughhh, _fine_! Good thing we ain't goin' to a strip joint then," she grouched as she unzipped the hoodie once more, then balled it up and forcefully smacked it down on the bike's seat. With a dirty look in his direction, she stalked across the blacktop towards the brightly lit shops on the other side of the street.

"Now_ there's_ something we haven't done in a long time..!" He chortled as he fell into step beside her. "Remember when we got tanked an' I dared you to enter dat amateur night, 'Daisy Dukes'? You won first pri-"

"DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKIN' ABOUTTTTT….!" Rogue warned loudly in a sing-song tone, cutting him off midsentence and quickening her pace.

She didn't need to see his grin to feel it burning into her backside. There were some outings she just didn't want to remember. (1)

Reaching the entrance to Cody's Bbq first, she paused momentarily to stare at the garish neon sign. Glancing pointedly from it to him and back, her heated glare was bitterly resentful. He shrugged noncommittally. Either he had forgotten the significance of the name or he didn't care. _Ah hope ta God this was unintentional, _she thought darkly. Swinging the thick wooden door open with excessive force, she nearly cracked him in the face with it. He dodged it easily, as though he'd been waiting for her to take a shot at him. It was bad enough that he had been expecting her to be a crybaby over the day's events without throwing in a seeming reference to poor little Cody Robbins, the first person she'd ever accidentally harmed with her power. (2)

The restaurant was longer than it was wide, a warm smattering of copper on the bar and stools, and exposed wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Tasteful country knick knacks adorned the mustard colored walls and there were half a dozen large screens smattered throughout the bar area; Rogue noted gratefully that all of them were tuned to sports channels. The back half was blocked off for some sort of event and most of the bar stools and tables were already filled with chatty patrons. A glance at the blackboard to the right of the hostess stand announced that tonight was reserved for line dancing.

'_Really?' _she mouthed to him over the cacophony emanating from the bar, an eyebrow raised skeptically.

He sidled uncomfortably close and said in her ear, "Less touching than a club, thought you'd approve. 'Sides, after all dat angry hate metal you been listening to, some country music'd do you a world of good."

Neck prickling where his breath had warmed her skin, she was unnerved more by his proximity than by the fact that he had guessed her thoughts on wanting to go back down to the south for a spell. Although kinetic energy disruption and hypnotic charm were his mutant powers, he had a strong empathic sense as well, so it didn't surprise her that he had picked up on her thoughts from earlier. However, she worried that she was projecting insecurity by letting his flirting cause her such discomfort- especially since it had been so long that she'd let him get under her skin. Squaring her shoulders back, she shored up the defensive attitude that had served her so well and locked down her negative emotions.

"I'm gonna need some liquid courage before I try this level of silliness," she said loudly, nodding towards the brightly lit wall of liquor bottles. She had dialed back the thickness of her accent to seem less recognizable.

A harried young man apologized for the wait and offered a corner booth, faltering for a moment when Rogue smiled sweetly at him and then lightly brushed her hand across his forearm in an overly friendly way. Gambit coolly observed her change in attitude without a word, following the two of them while surreptitiously sizing up the customers. It was second nature for him to mentally mark the escape routes and note how many open purses and jacket pockets lay between him and the table.

Leading the good-looking lady and her brooding companion to their seats, the dark haired host wondered which Hampton-dwelling, incognito well-to-do's they might be. Cody's saw its fair share of famous folk, and these two looked awfully familiar. He gave them over to the bubbliest waitress they had for the evening, excusing himself with a warm smile to the woman and a polite head bob to her tall friend, who merely nodded in return but kept his gaze focused downwards at the table. The waitress introduced herself as Veronica and proceeded to ramble off the night's many specials without taking a breath. Rogue chuckled and congratulated the chipper girl on her ability to remember so much of the menu, as well as having an exceptional lung capacity to repeat all of the selections. Veronica blushed prettily, unsure how to take the flirty compliment. Ordering a beer and a shot of Jack Daniels, Rogue then turned to Gambit with an imperious expression. Chin tucked into his chest, he was quietly watching her from under the long fringe of hair that always seemed to conveniently obscure his eyes in public. She caught his flicker of surprise at the fact she had just flirted with another woman just before his mouth curled into a sardonic smile. (3)

_Is that how we're gonna play tonight? Game on!_

Still staring Rogue down, he politely ordered a beer as well and a glass of bourbon. Faithfully scribbling in her notebook, the waitress was just about to turn and leave when the gentleman looked up at her. She had been wondering if he was pathologically shy for not making eye contact while ordering, when suddenly she found herself lost in a disconcertingly warm pair of reddish eyes set deep into a rakishly handsome face. Once, when she was just out of high school, her friends had talked her into volunteering for some ridiculous comedian's 'hypnosis' act. Although her buddies still ripped on her about not remembering how she had strutted around the stage, clucking like a chicken, she remembered well the sinking feeling she had experienced as the movement of the antique pocket watch lulled her into a dream state. This was almost the same sensation, only with more of a salaciously perverted promise that made her knees go weak. Instinctively reaching out for the edge of the table to steady herself, the man caught her wrist and smiled at her; a flash of straight white teeth in an engaging grin.

"Easy there, Miss Veronica!" he purred with a deep, honeyed voice, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand. "Wouldn't want you to end up on ya knees so early in the evening, eh?"

Veronica's pink cheeks turned crimson and she giggled. "S-Sorry, I don't know what came over me! I'll…uhh… just go get your drinks now.."

Gambit watched her stagger away, and glanced back at his ex-girlfriend from the corner of his eye. Rogue had her chin in her palm, entertained by the interaction she had just witnessed. Not jealous, he noted, just amused. _Huh. Dat's a new one_.

Clearing his throat, he settled back into the cushioned backrest with a sly smile and said airily, "Don't mess wit' a master, darlin'."

Studying him for a moment, she reached across the table with her fingers extended towards his face and joked, "Gimmie some a' that charm, ya sleazeball- maybe we can get all our drinks for free tonight!"

He laughed and dodged her hand, shooing her away with his napkin.

They ate lightly and drank heavily, although Gambit paced himself more evenly with a glass of water every other drink. He would have preferred to get bombed as well but wasn't about risk an accident so soon after acquiring his new Harley. The threat of a DUI didn't faze him; he had wormed his way out of plenty of those. Besides, the strange way that Rogue had switched from brooding to cheerful seemed too much like flipping a mental switch; one that could easily be turned back in the opposite direction with the wrong influence. Staying semi-sober seemed like the best way to prevent that influence from occurring.

Once Rogue realized she was smiling more than scowling, she randomly slapped her hands down on the table and half stood, announcing that she was ready to rock the dance floor. Veronica eagerly saw it as her cue to return, anticipating more of the back and forth banter between her most fascinating patrons of the evening- especially the ribald comments of the devilishly charming man. Presenting the check with a none-too-subtle wink at him, she asked them if they would be staying for dancing.

Gambit couldn't help lewdly replying, "If it's horizontal dancing, bien sûr (of course), chere!"

The brunette waitress hadn't been expecting him to be so forward, especially in the company of a woman that he'd obviously been deeply intimate with. Startled, she looked at the lady in the baseball cap, expecting her to be angry. Instead of being offended, the woman had a secretive smile on her pretty face as she reached for the check.

Slipping a handful of twenties into the black booklet before her companion could object, she handed it back to Veronica and said dryly, "Trust me, honey- he's all sexy and exotic until you hear him fart. After that, it's all downhill."

Veronica slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the lady's rude remark, stealing a glance at the brown haired gentleman. He was gaping openly at his compatriot, his dark eyes widened in indignant disbelief. The skin at the corner of his left eyelid was twitching in an Chief Inspector Dreyfus-esque fashion.

"It's not my fault dat beans mess me up!" he complained, obviously rankled, as their waitress giggled her gratitude and scooted away.

Rogue weaseled her way out of the booth and unkinked her back with a stretch, careful not to knock into anyone. As she turned to face him she jutted her left hip out cockily, a thumb hooked in her belt loop, and blatantly ignored his dirty look.

"Y'all gonna come dance with me or should Ah go find someone else?"

His eyes flicked back and forth between hers, taking her measure. Finally, he huffed, "You about as slick as crude oil, you know dat?"

"You love it, or else you wouldn't have come and got me, handsome," she conceded with a roll of her eyes, trying to inflate his flattened ego. Holding out her hand in offering, she silently thanked the alcohol for making her feel like her ballsy old self.

Scoffing at her outstretched fingers, he stood up, moved past her and smoothly hooked her waist instead.

Spinning her around to face the opposite direction, he said, "You didn't have to buy, y' grossier petite con (rude little jerk). Let's go trip over the drunks before I find some other physical activity t' keep you busy."

"You'rrre wellllcommmme," said over her shoulder, letting him push her through the crowded dining area.

"Thaaaaank youuuu," he sang back, jutting his lower jaw out and sticking his tongue out at the back of her head.

.

_Not much to this chapter, just setting the scene for things to come. I was a bit hasty in promising a chapter a day- the next chapter likely will not be finished until next week because I'm beat from work, shoveling snow and not getting enough sleep!_

_1) 10+ years of repressed hormones? Oh yeah, I'd be willing to bet money that Rogue cut loose and THEN some when they lost their powers and moved to Cali after the whole mess with Vargas…_

_2) Cody's is a real place, in real Riverhead. Although he'll never read this, mad props to my army buddy 'Fug' for taking me out to dinner and cheering me up when I needed a friend. They really do have great BBQ, but don't let the bartender talk you into mixing shots afterwards because you WILL regret it the next day!_

_3) If he had seen her kiss Black Widow in A + X #2, he might not have been as surprised, lol. _


	5. Chapter 5

Remaining inconspicuous in a crowd turned out to be more difficult than Gambit had thought. From an early age, he and Rogue had been drilled by their adoptive parents to understand that if one did not want to end up stabbed or shot, motion and thought often had to take place at the same time. Regular training sessions with their powerful teammates kept both of the former X-Men at the height of their physical endurance, and as a result, they moved far more gracefully than the average blue collar worker. Even half-drunk, Rogue still nimbly avoided impacts with over a dozen stumbling participants on the crowded dance floor, laughing with them as she and Gambit traded partners back and forth during couples songs.

Dancing had always been a favored pastime of hers and she viewed it as an adrenaline rush similar to fighting, minus the risk of being punched in the face. She didn't even seem perturbed by the repeated flesh to flesh contact with total strangers; surprisingly, she almost seemed to welcome it. _Almost_. At one point an overly grabby roughneck tried to cop a feel and she rounded on him, ready to fight in an instant. Gambit had quickly pulled her back in line before she could clobber the moron, thinking that the man had just come closer to losing his front teeth than he would ever know.

The floor reverberated from the bass of the music, the twangy, rollicking beats driving them to increasingly outlandish moves. An oblivious onlooker might not have caught the passing slide of Gambit's fingers across the bare skin of Rogue's lower back or the seemingly casual brush of her thigh against his as they interwove around each other, sinuous as a pair of silken threads, but the spirited bond between them was noticeable to even the drunkest dancer. At one point, everyone had moved back to give them extra room while trying unsuccessfully to match their grace and enthusiasm. Just as the song "Fake ID" was reaching its crescendo, they rejoined hands after a particularly flashy maneuver. The Cajun pivoted her around into a double spin and rocked back on his heels to pull her dangerously close.

Remembering a moment too late that she'd forced him to sit through the entire 'Footloose' remake and that he'd paid extra attention to this song in particular, Rogue's eyes widened. She cuffed the Creedence Clearwater logo in the center of shirt when she realized what move he was trying to get away with, drawing up her fist to block him from stealing a kiss. She stopped just shy of his jaw, the indigo fabric pulling up from where it was tucked into his jeans to reveal the sharply defined muscles of his abdomen. The silver Blackjack buckle of his belt dug suggestively into her belly while their hips gyrated together in time to the music, briefly branding her skin with the imprint of an ace of spades and a jack of hearts. Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl. Her field of vision narrowed so that everything was a blur except for his laughing mouth and the blaze of hunger in his bright eyes. Alarmed at the unexpected surge of intense desire, she gasped and ducked her face at the last half a second. Gambit had guessed what her reaction would be, although regret was apparent on his face as he planted a quick peck on her cheek before pushing her away. Falling back into her place in line, she dimly registered the lyrics to the song as time resumed its normal pace. (1)

The next song was a relatable one for her. She kicked her toes out a tad more violently and punctuated the words by stamping her heels extra hard, singing raucously, "Whose bed have your boots been underrr, whose heart did ya steal Ah wonderrrr…!"

Gambit glowered sidelong at her, stomping his own feet hard enough to rattle the floorboards and thinking grouchily, _Gonna have to have a talk with dat Dj…_

They danced separately and more slowly for a few more songs before Rogue excused herself for the ladies' room, at which point Gambit made for the bar to procure more drinks. Although not as intense as a Danger Room workout, he had still worked up a sweat. Several onlookers threw compliments his way and one of the professional line dancers clapped him on the shoulder appreciatively as he slipped through the crowd. The bartender was a short, older blonde with a bored smile that turned more interested once she glimpsed his eyes; apparently their waitress from earlier had gossiped some juicy information. They struck up a friendly conversation, which resulted in a few complimentary beers. Every so often he would glance towards the dance floor, wondering what was taking his date so long.

* * *

Hiding out in a bathroom stall, Rogue was taking a breather from the crush of flying elbows and knees. It had been ages since she had attempted to mingle with normal people, and she was having second thoughts as to how much longer she could keep up the cheerful façade. There were just too many mixed emotions going on all at once for her to feel comfortable being in public. As much as she hated to admit it, Gambit had been right to suggest that she should have dealt with her remorse in a less social atmosphere. The liquor had helped mute Simon's voice in her ear, crying over the loss of his brother, but it hadn't completely blocked out his psyche's angst. She figured more alcohol might be needed to shut him up completely. And then there was the other source of unsettlement; the Cajun himself. They had never taken the time to actually discuss their last breakup, choosing to ignore one another in a childish version of 'out of sight, out of mind'.

_What the hell was with that attempt at kissin' me?! _She wondered angrily. After she had gained control of her power, he had ceased his relentless teasing. Originally, she had thought that he was just being considerate of her request to give her the space and time to figure out what she wanted. But as weeks turned into months, she had begun to attribute his lack of flirting to the old adage that the chase was better than the prize. Gambit had always been obsessed with anticipation more than realization, and although she didn't miss being treated like his clueless one-night-stand quarry, the lack of amorous attention had saddened her.

It hurt to think that he no longer felt any of their once powerful attraction, so the casual way that he had gone from disinterested best friend to flirty seemed unnatural after being 'just buddies' for so long. She pulled off the hat and ran her fingers through the damp roots of her hair, tugging on them in frustration as she tried to think of the best way to handle the remainder of the evening. _Ah could be a dick and go out the back door, catch a cab home…_

Suddenly, she sat up and laughed out loud, not caring if she startled the other women in the small bathroom. _Ah have fought down aliens and stood mah own against entire armies! Ah am NOT gonna back down to mah dipshit ex, and Ah am NOT gonna feel sorry for mahself! (2)_

* * *

Predictably, the obnoxious vagabond was sitting at the bar, engaged in what looked like an overly friendly chat with the bleach blonde bartender. It was getting late and the crowd was beginning to thin out, although there was still a sizable throng of patrons hovering around the beer taps. Rogue wormed her way through the crowd to stand behind Gambit. There were two beers and two shots waiting already, and she reached over his shoulder without even bothering to ask which one was hers.

"Hey, girl! What happened, you fall in?" he joked.

"I got better ways a' drownin', sugar," she said, tapping the neck of her bottle against his in salute before knocking the contents back like a college kid at a frat party. The bartender smiled kindly at her and promptly popped the lid off of another beer.

Gambit's eyebrows shot up comically as watched Rogue down the shot and start on the second beer in the same manner as the first. "I was jus' telling Miss Lisa here dat we're undercover superheroes. Apparently she's Iron Man's biggest fan."

Rogue choked on her drink, spluttering, "Y'all did _what_?!"

Lisa laughed and made a dismissive gesture with the bottle opener as she moved away to fill an order for some rowdy men at the end of the counter. "I just think Mr. Stark is ridiculously sexy, that's all. Your friend doesn't seem to think so, though- he thinks _you_ two would make better Avengers!"

"Ah think don't think this 'un here would- he prob'ly belongs in jail somewhere," Rogue called out humorously. She had given up tempering her accent.

Gambit leaned his head back until it was upside down against her chest and favored her with a knowing wink. His ponytail hadn't held up to the quick directional changes of dancing, and his chin length hair spread out across her collarbones like a soft brown scarf.

Grinning, he said, "You wouldn' have left me there long."

The hardness in her eyes threw him off as she coldly replied, "I might have if'n ya deserved it. But Ah reckon getting shot in the head was punishment enough… this time."

It was an incredibly cruel statement, and Gambit quickly pulled away from her, stung. When the Avengers and Mi13 had shown up to rescue him after his prison infiltration went awry, Borla Cich had shot him point blank between the eyes with a purloined Glock. It was only because of the amazing, instant healing ability of one of the British team's members that he was still breathing. Before everything went black, the last thing he'd seen was Rogue screaming, her pretty features twisted in absolute horror. The darkness had only lasted for a few seconds, and he'd woken with a splitting headache to find himself clutched tightly in her desperate grip, her grateful tears raining onto his face. For her to imply now that he'd deserved it hurt him to his core. (3)

Without looking back, he hunched his shoulders and spat, "So what's _your_ punishment for today going t' be, I wonder?"

"_**Ah**_ didn't do anything wrong. The only thing Ah'm regrettin' ish not lettin' that nutball finish the job," she replied, a barbed edge knifing through her slurred words. Downing the other half of her beer, she set it back on the bar in front of him with a resounding thud.

Two men to her right looked up, trying not to be obvious about their interest in the conversation even though their furtive glances and halting speech exposed their nosy intentions. Rogue noticed, but thanks to the alcohol that was quickly overriding her sense of judgment, she just didn't care. It was becoming increasingly difficult to vocalize her thoughts clearly now that her circulatory system had calmed down from the rigors of dancing. The numbness was a welcome change.

"So if I piss you off, you gon' kill me too?" Gambit said acerbically, trying to speak more quietly. His subconscious was nagging him that this conversation would be far safer in private.

"You treat me like one a' ya floozies again an' maybe Ah will!" Rogue's tone was still several octaves too loud as she glared at his disgruntled reflection in the mirror that lined the back of the bottle racks. (4)

Although he looked like he wanted to smile at her acknowledgment of his sneaky attempt at a smooch, he was still smarting from her comment about just desserts. She wondered why he loved to physically irritate her so much, even though she had told him time and time again how she hated being subjected to the same carelessly casual treatment that he used on any woman that piqued his interest. _Women, hell. He'd probably use the same cheesy pick-up act on a broom if it meant he'd get laid._

"You wanted t' kiss me jus' as bad as I did you. I don' regret trying."

"Seems ta me you don't regret a whole lotta things that ya should. Ah dun' recall you showin' any remorsh over turnin' Cich into a Molotov cocktail, _buddy_," she sniped, the endearment rolling sarcastically off her tongue.

"Dat was as much of an accident as what you did, and you know it," he stated flatly, his eyes narrowing while he took a swig of his drink.

_We're like peas in a damned pod, _he groused as she looked away, conceding to his point. When he'd retaliated at Cich by spitting a kinetically charged bullet at the fat bastard's head, he hadn't expected it to blow up like a pound of C4. For weeks after Lady Faiza had used her crazy sword voodoo to bring him back to life, it had been difficult to rein in his mutant power. He _had_ felt guilty about the accidental detonation. Trying to convince his ex that he was more concerned about the direction of her moral compass than the fact she'd accidentally killed again was rapidly ruining his happy beer buzz.

Swaying in place as people pushed and shoved past her to get to the bar, Rogue stuck her lower lip out and crossed her arms. Everything was starting to look blurry and she longed to go back to dancing and laughing but the dance floor had already been cleared.

"Why are you sho determined ta make me feel bad today?"

"I'm making _YOU_ feel bad?! Ha! I thought we were having fun but you so determined t' start a fight dat I'm wondering why I bother trying to cheer you up in the first place. Hey, there y' go- Dat's something I'm starting t' _regret._"

As Rogue glowered at him from under the brim of her hat, his reflected gaze slid over to the busybodies (who suddenly pretended a keen interest in their beers), and then back to her. It was an oblique warning to watch her mouth. The tension was abruptly broken by the return of the bartender, who calmly parked another bottle next to Gambit's and deliberately inserted herself into their conversation.

"So many happy faces down here!" Lisa proclaimed with forced friendliness as she wiped down the counter. It didn't take a psychiatrist to spot the anger building between the two strangers.

A seasoned veteran of tending bar, she was an expert at stopping fights before they could get out of control. Far too many couples had come for a drink and ended up turning the place into a live Jerry Springer episode. This odd pair, however, struck her as two caring souls who just happened to be stuck in a very deep rut. The brunette's grouchy demeanor fascinated her in particular; she noted that although the lady seemed bent on upsetting her dark-eyed companion, there was a pained sadness about her as she did so. Lisa didn't think that they'd actually come to blows, but her intuition had been wrong before. She preferred to err on the side of caution, especially since two of the most obnoxious regulars had taken up residence next to the couple. Both of the meddlers were underpaid, ignorant mechanics who worked at the small garage on the edge of town and were known for instigating unrest- mostly with famous entertainers. She knew firsthand that they had once received a generous check to silence them from talking to the media after they provoked a well-respected singer into a fist fight.

Addressing Rogue, she politely asked, "So, what _do_ you guys do for a living?"

The shorter of the two troublemakers, a stout, barrel-chested man with a ruddy complexion, turned an inquisitive ear towards their conversation even as he pretended to laugh at something his friend said.

"Art an' antiques collectin'," Gambit shrugged casually.

"Trash disposal," Rogue stated matter-of-factly. She maintained her deadpan expression as Gambit softly smacked his hand over his forehead.

The squat fellow piped up before the bartender could comment. "Man, how does a pretty little thing like you end up with a shitty job like that?"

Lisa glared at him like she wished his mouth would suddenly seal itself shut, then glanced at the sulking stranger to see if he was going to object to the overt flirtation. Instead, Gambit merely acquiesced with a half-smile and rolled his eyes. She was mildly surprised at his laid-back acceptance; from the caring way that he had spoken of his lady friend, she'd assumed that they were dating.

Rogue had turned to face the man with a sweetly vacuous expression, one that the Cajun had witnessed whenever she was toying with a victim who didn't know about her mutant abilities. "Well somebody's gotta take out the garbage, don' they?"

Smirking, Lisa gestured at the pair of idiots. "Well, isn't that a blessing! It just so happens that we've got some trash right here that you could get rid of!"

"I see Lisa's got it out for us still," the taller man said, nudging his friend's shoulder and shooting a look of contempt at the bartender. "If this little missy knew what a freak you are, she'd probably chuck _your_ old ass into the back of the garbage truck."

"Now that ain't very nice," Rogue interjected with a hint of warning in her tone, "Ya shouldn't say such things ta ladies."

Lisa had visibly flinched at the 'freak' slur and all of a sudden the cynical attitude went out of her as if she were a deflated balloon. Weakly, she said, "Ha. Manners are wasted on the likes of them."

"Aww, don't be like that, 'Leese'! Spocky probably just inhaled too much exhaust from that diesel we worked on today," the shorter man complained, nudging his empty glass towards her. She grudgingly set about refilling it. Turning to Rogue, he offered his hand and said, "I do too have manners. I'm Kenny and this is Spokowski. Or 'Spocky', as it were." (5)

It took a sizeable amount of control not to break the creep's fingers as she briefly grasped his hand. Covering her repulsion with humor, she said, "Ah'm surprised ya don't go by 'Captain Kirk'."

Her ex nearly snorted his drink through his nose. Gambit muttered under his breath, "If you'd have said 'Captain Picard', I'd have t' spank y' for the insult."

Lisa chuckled as Rogue meanly bopped the back of his skull in remonstration and stated, "Kirk's better and ya know it."

Spockowski did not look amused, but Kenny's face nearly split in half from his buck toothed grin.

He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and leered at Rogue. "You can call me whatever you want, honey. I like it weird, don't I, Lisa?"

The bartender abruptly turned heel and tramped away to the furthest point of the bar counter without another word. Gambit scrutinized her departing back with interest, paying heed to the faintly visible lumps under her long sleeved shirt that he hadn't noticed before. Rogue watched her too, and turned back to the ignorant men.

"She's a terrible bartender, always being mean to paying customers like us," the shorter man explained rudely as his scrawny companion reached over the bar for another beer.

"Sheems ta me like y'all probably deserve it," Rogue sniffed disdainfully.

"She's a mutie. I saw her changing in the backroom once, she had all kinds of weird, diamond-looking things growing outta her hide. I'm amazed the owner hasn't fired her yet," Spokowski snorted.

Just as Rogue opened her mouth to retort, there was a sudden pressure on her leg. Looking down to find that Gambit had covertly slid his hand behind him and was squeezing her knee in warning, Rogue shoved his fingers away. She addressed the moron squad in a tone that came across much more viciously than she had planned.

"Whassamatta, ya don' like mutants?"

Surprised at the vehemence in her voice, Spokowski raised an eyebrow and sneered, "No, I don't. They act like they're better than human beings, but all I ever see them do is destroy everything they touch. They shoulda stayed on that island off of California. Maybe then they'd kill all the hippies out there and actually do the world a favor."

"Ah'm pretty sure some'a those 'muties' have saved the world a time or two, not that anyone is ever grateful for their sacrifices," Rogue dissented, her irises blazing peridot green fire.

Kenny had been studying Rogue's angry face as his pal spoke. Realization dawned in his squinty eyes and he suddenly seemed to shrink in size, making himself appear even shorter.

He pointed a shaky finger at her and stuttered, "Y-y-you were o-on TV today…Y-you killed that freaky guy in t-the weird hat! You're one of _THEM_…!"

* * *

_Hi, all! Sorry for the super long delay- this chapter was unbelievably difficult to write and it took me a looooong time to get it down pat. Even now, I'm not sure I like it- so it may change again over time. For now, please let me know what you think _

_1) Random Spasticat facts: It seriously took me an hour of watching the 'fake id' video on repeat and a mason jar of apple pie 'shine to write this damned paragraph. No joke. Writing is freakin' hard!  
_

_Blackjack is the name of my beloved Explorer, which was partly inspired by Gambit's love of card games._

_2) X-Men Legacy #272, 273. Yes, she really took on not one but TWO armies, and brought peace to an entire alien planet. I couldn't help thinking of the setting of __John Carter.__ Mmm, Taylor Kitsch. ;)_

_3) Gambit #17. Did NOT see that one coming when I first read it, and it scared the crap outta me that he could die as easily as your average person. Seriously, how often does that happen with the X-Men?! usually it's some incredibly outlandish, totally unbelievable death.  
_

_4) In Uncanny Avengers #6, Wanda referred to her as "one of her father's floozies". Sometimes being called a hurtful word sticks in your head._

_5) Based on real-life local idiots. Never piss off a writer, mwahaha!_


	6. Chapter 6

She hesitated for only the briefest of seconds before instinctively reaching out to seize the blubbering fool's florid cheek. Kenny's eyelids fluttered and he toppled forward, falling off of his stool to crash face first onto the sticky hardwood floor, but Rogue made no move to catch him- she couldn't see anything through the haze of disjointed memories that assaulted her mind. Gambit and Spokowski jumped to their feet at the same time, the latter calling out his fallen friend's name in shock. What happened next occurred so fast that the regulars would talk about it in wonder for months to come; the scraggly mechanic made a fist and started to swing on Rogue, yet ended up sprawled out next to Kenny with a broken nose. The tall stranger's lightning fast left hook had been nothing more than a tan blur.

"Aaaannd we're done here..!" Gambit said, firmly grasping Rogue's shoulder before she could do more damage. He was in shock as well, perplexed by his normally levelheaded ex's unorthodox method of handling the situation.

In a distinctly deeper voice that was laced with a New York City accent, she rounded on him and shouted, "Don't touch me, you freak!"

Had he been anyone else, he might have been startled at the change in Rogue's face. Her skin was mottled with patchy red blotches and her eyes had turned a nondescript shade of brown. However, he wasn't any other man, and he'd been through this scenario enough times to know that the after effect would only last a few minutes since she had barely made contact.

"Get a grip, Anna- we got to _go_!" he whispered warningly, sparing a glance towards the men at the end of the bar. Several of them had put down their drinks and stood up menacingly, concerned for the brunette who had jammed the heels of her hands into her eyes and appeared to be groaning in pain.

Now that she had control of her power, it was rare to knock enemies out cold unless she absolutely had to. She despised sharing mental real estate when it was so much more pleasant just to siphon off a little bit of power and maybe a memory or two, since having to deal with mutinous psyches trying to take over her mind often caused a minor headache. Adding alcohol to the equation only skewed the results further, making them infinitely more painful.

Spocky was rolling around the floor, clutching his bloody face and screaming obscenities as Lisa charged up to their end of the bar and demanded to know what happened.

Thinking fast, Gambit offered an apologetic smile and deliberately spoke loud enough for the advancing men to hear. "Homme here was gettin' too touchy-feely, an' his friend overreacted when she said 'no'."

"Monsters…!" Rogue said in a low tone, peeping out from between her fingers at him.

"Beg pardon, fille?"

"They're **monsters**!" she reiterated, clenching her fists and staring in horror at the prone bodies by her feet. Shivering as if she were cold, she fought internally to quell the twisted memories that made her want to beat the scum within an inch of their lives.

The bouncer, a burly dark skinned man that reminded her of Bishop, had made his way through the curious onlookers and was about to reach for Rogue; however, he hesitated upon seeing the expression of absolute revulsion on her face. Sickening visions were swirling around her mind, glimpses of unspeakable crimes that had been near the surface of Kenny's memories when she had touched him.

"This un' is a pedophile!" She cried, pointing at Spokowski, who was glaring at her through rapidly swelling eyes, "And that un' raped a teenager last year! It's all on his computer, _the sick bastard actually_ _took pictures for his_ _buddy_!"

Aside from the music that was still blaring over the speaker system, what was left of the late night crowd fell silent. Feeling everyone staring at him, Spokowski reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black object.

"Shut your mouth, you #*%ing mutie!" he shrieked, pointing the gun at Rogue's head.

Everyone in the bar hit the deck, then ran for the door amidst screams of terror while the bouncer lashed out at the desperate mechanic with his foot. Rogue twisted backwards when she saw Spokowski's finger squeeze the trigger, even as Gambit dropped to one knee and grabbed the madman's wrist. With a disgusted snarl on his face, he used his other hand to chop the outstretched arm at the elbow, snapping the bones with a sickening crunch. Whether the man felt it before the bouncer's kick knocked him out was debatable, but he'd certainly feel it when he awoke.

Gambit looked up at woman who meant more to him than his own life and heaved a sigh of relief. Holding a quivering hand to her bangs, Rogue stared back down at him. The .380 round had blown through the bill of the baseball cap and knocked it from her head, narrowly missing her skull. If the situation hadn't been so serious, he would have laughed at her obviously confused expression; she was trying to figure out why Kenny's thoughts hadn't revealed that his friend was carrying an illegally concealed weapon. Before she could do anything more than glance around at the chaotic mess left behind by the panicked customers, he aimed for her knees and sprinted forward, hoisting her up and over his left shoulder.

Ignoring her surprised holler, he slapped a number of large bills on the counter and then leaned over it to address Lisa in her hiding place.

"I'm sorry, madame. M' girl here is a lotta things, but she ain't a liar. If she says it happened, it did. Much as I'd like to see this," Gambit grimaced as he gestured at the downed deviants, "...this _déchets sans valeur_ (worthless scum) get what's comin' to them, we can't stick around and we can't leave any hard evidence."

Plucking a damp coaster from the countertop, he flipped it around his fingertips. The hard fibrous material sparkled at first as he imbued it with a small charge, and then began to glow, emitting a vibrant fuschia light. It took a moment for Rogue's beer-addled mind to process his intentions, but when she realized that he wasn't going to let them stay and handle things properly she immediately began to struggle against his shoulder.

He sighed, then clamped his free hand on her rear end and squeezed hard.

As he knew it would, the inappropriate action had the desired effect of momentarily stilling the ferocious pounding of her fists against his spine, giving him a precious window of time with which he steadied his aim. He'd deliberately crossed one of her boundaries and would deal with the repercussions later; right now it was imperative to evacuate as quickly and cleanly as possible. Gambit flicked the thick paper square expertly into a gap in the paneling below the main register and watched with satisfaction as the small explosion wiped out the hidden surveillance recorder.

As he turned towards the back of the restaurant, the hulking black man held up his hand to block him and rumbled in a deep baritone, "Sorry? You're not as _sorry_ as I'm going to be if I let you guys leave. Especially after that stunt, because now I'm positive you guys are already wanted by the authorities. I definitely know _she_ is: That white streak is pretty memorable after you've seen it on TV all day."

Gambit's mind raced for a suitable excuse. Unfortunately, his cargo chose that exact moment to blurt out, "Damnit, Cajun! Put me down! The Avengers already got that shit sorted out – Ah ain't goin' nowhere 'til these dirtbags ish locked up!"

It was exactly the 'tell' that he had been trying to avoid, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger out of pure exasperation. Rogue could be as much of a wild card as himself sometimes, although tonight her puzzling behavior was completely lacking in the self-preservation department. Thankfully all of the patrons had fled for the front door, so the only ones within earshot were the bartender, the bouncer and the two limp men on the floor. Lisa, whose head was the only part of her visible above bar, gaped in astonishment at the divulgence of Rogue's true occupation.

"I swear on m' poor brother's soul, fille- _I am gon' duct tape your mouth shut one of these days_," he growled angrily, jostling her into silence. To the bouncer, he pleaded, "Look, after all she's been through t'day the last thing she needs is to be on the news again. She's drunk and jus' tryin' to do the right thing. You seem like a good man and I don' want to fight you, but if you insist on detainin' us, I will."

"Are you #$%ing serious?! Don't ya DARE make excuses f' me!" Rogue cursed.

She somehow managed to twist upwards enough to snag a half full draft glass from the bar and launched it at Kenny's inert form. The man had just stirred, about to wake up…that is, until the glass shattered against his head and pelted him into unconsciousness once again. Gambit quickly swung her away from the counter before she could get her paws on any other weapons. He favored the dumbfounded guard with a beseeching look.

Piping up from behind him, Lisa said, "It's all right, Derek; let them go. We can come up with something before the cops get here. They're mutants, like me."

Derek shot a meaningful glance at his bartending friend, and slowly his hand wavered and fell. Gruffly, he stated to Gambit, "I'll take care of these two morons. I knew they were bad eggs, but this...they're going to have a lot to answer for. Get out and don't come back. If I ever see either of you in here again, I'll arrest you myself- no matter what superhero club you belong to."

Loosely saluting the pair of them, Gambit spun around and jetted for freedom. Lisa called out a thank you at his departing form as he raced towards the back of the building.

"Remy LeBeau, you bettah put me down right now or sho help me…!" Rogue screeched after he had shoved past the steel emergency door.

"SHHH! Y' already got us in enough trouble as it is!" He hissed savagely, ducking through the shadows as he crept along the back of the building. The rush of hot, humid air was a welcome shock from the cool, stale interior of the bar and he inhaled deeply, grateful that she'd had enough common sense not to call him by name in front of any witnesses.

"Ah had it under control!" she said, disoriented by the dizzying motion of his heels as they flashed in and out of her range of vision.

"Not gon' say it again, Rogue. **BE. QUIET."**

She wriggled against his unyielding grip on her ass, bouncing helplessly against his back while he darted around parked cars and navigated a labyrinth of trash bins. Already furious that the Cajun hadn't let her stay behind and make sure the two sick bastards were properly processed by the authorities, being told what to do by 'Captain Coward' was like throwing gasoline on a bonfire. Steadying herself by digging her thumbs under his belt and gripping his slim hips, she chomped down on the muscle beneath his shoulder blade.

With a surprised yelp, Gambit's step faltered as his back reflexively went ramrod straight. Although he had an incredibly high tolerance for pain, born from years of torture at the hands of various villains, it was nearly unbearable when he wasn't expecting it. Turning his face into her thigh, he retaliated by biting through her jeans and sinking his fingernails into her buttocks. Unfortunately, it only made her bite even harder. He staggered as he rounded the corner onto a one way street and released her onto the concrete sidewalk, where she dropped into a rumpled bundle of indignation.

"You do _not_ tell me what ta do, buster! Now or _ever_!" she growled as she lurched unsteadily to her feet.

Her upper leg smarted, and she rubbed at it to ease the sting. He was trying to do the same to his back, his arm bent at an awkward angle to reach the sensitive bruise. The wail of police sirens drew closer, and he quickly pulled her into the darkness of a handicap ramp alcove along the side of the building.

"What the HELL, Anna?!" he demanded grouchily.

"We got no way of knowin' that them bastards are gonna pay for what they did, and thanks ta you now we don' have any proof that it happened at all! Jus' because you're afraid of getting arreshted again doesn't mean Ah am! A month ago Ah blew a hole in the Chrysler Building with Black Widow's rifle and d'ya know what happened? _Nothing_!" she seethed, leaning against the brick wall for support. (1)

"You can't seriously think dat bein' an Avenger means you have a get-outta-jail-free card!" he exclaimed. His expression was incredulous and more than a little hurt that she so vehemently doubted his judgment call.

"That's _exactly_ what it is! They trust me ta make the right calls and do what has ta be done, that's why Ah'm a part of the team and you _aren't_!"

For the second time that evening, Gambit had the urge to walk away without saying another word and leave her to her own inebriated devices. Aggravated beyond his tolerance level, he flung his hands out, palms up, and appealed to the sky as if to say _God, grant me strength to deal wit' this impossible woman…!_

On some deep and personal level, she felt vindicated to see that her words had penetrated his nonchalant attitude. He had hurt her so much, for so long, that the urge to make him feel the same rejection had bubbled through the alcohol induced haze. Once upon a time that she would have broken down at his stricken expression, but she was no longer the naïve, desperate-for-romance fool that she'd been before he showed up at the X-Men's door.

"What if the cops 'round here have the same view on mutants dat half the planet does? It'd be real easy for them to come up with an excuse to 'deal' with a mutie troublemaker. And you know damn well dat the courts are always skewed to the _poor innocent human's_ side of the story –who knows what they'd do to you, but they'd prob'ly get away wit' it!"

"So ya don't think Ah can handle mahshelf anymore, is that it? Ah get by _just fine_ without you, Ah always have an' Ah always will!"

That did it.

Stepping so close that their noses touched, he snarled, "You really, REALLY think y' beloved Avengers are goin' to bail you outta some Podunk jail in the middle a' the night after you went an' assaulted a man? A _ human_ man? Logan's told me how they're sick a' your shit, and yet you really think you can boss them around and get away wit' murder?!"

Blinded by bitterness, he realized his mistake in using the ubiquitous cliché too late. Rogue stilled instantly, a pale stone statue partly illuminated by the copper light of the streetlamps. She started to shake with the effort of restraining herself and stared balefully at him. Seeing that he'd hurt her caused tightness in his throat, yet it was not enough to stop the resentful storm of feelings that her attitude had provoked. He stepped back to put a decent sized space between them and soldiered on, ignoring the police cars that could be heard screeching to a halt less than a block away.

"D'you ever _think_ about the consequences of y' actions anymore?" He asked in a more level tone."D'you even _care_ what kinda position you put me in tonight?"

"Now that's the pot callin' the kettle black if ever Ah heard it! How many times have ya done somethin' reckless and left me ta clean up _your_ mess?!" she cried, her cheeks flushing a frustrated red as she advanced on him and stood on tiptoe to yell in his face. "How many times have ya shtupid decisions wrecked mah life, Remy!?" (2)

His proud shoulders sagged and he looked away from her, defeated.

She'd hit him right where he was the most vulnerable; calling up all the guilt he could never quite shake, locked away just under his seemingly carefree surface. There were almost too many incidents to recall. Not telling her he was still married to BellaDonna when they first met. His part in the Morlock Massacre and how the memories of it had nearly wrecked her. Mary Purcell- the green ghost who'd kept them apart. The New Son incident. Joining Apocolypse as the horseman Death. They were always at the back of his mind, threatening to drag him down into depression if he lingered on them too long. But Rogue had never called him out on any of it- until now. She'd always tolerated the repercussions of his decisions because of how hard he had thrown himself into fixing his screw ups and earning redemption. Like a fool, he'd let himself believe that although his many transgressions weren't forgotten, she'd at least forgiven him. (3)

Swallowing hard, he said quietly, "This ain't 'bout tonight anymore. And this ain't somethin' to be discussing right now."

Rogue closed her eyes to keep him from seeing the wetness that threatened to spill down her cheeks.

"Take me home," she said firmly, in a tone that was devoid of emotion.

* * *

_*Imitates Mortal Kombat* FIGHT!_

_So... freaking...tired...! Thank you all for the patience and amazingly supportive comments while I was struggling to write this chapter- it really does mean the world to me. I hate hate HATE seeing them fight in the books, and it was really difficult to portray it in the story as well :( Don't worry though, it'll get somewhat better soon, although the release of the preview cover art for X-Factor #9 today has me reconsidering the ending to this story. Dang you and your continuity, Marvel!_

_1) A + X #2 again. I wonder who pays for that kind of damage...?  
_

_2) I had to think long and hard on how many times Rogue screwed him over, besides dating Magneto, and I couldn't come up with squat! She has always waited for him to come around and explain himself, even letting it affect her core personality. for example, when he took off to become death: She reverted to her old brotherhood costume and started being sarcastic and reckless, although her leadership abilities outweighed the dangers she put her team through. Even right up until Gambit #17, she was still letting his poor decisions slide and making excuses for him. Small wonder then, that she was continuously reticent about getting back into a relationship. If you remember something I don't, please leave me a comment!  
_

_3) You're not really gonna make me look all these up, are you? It's like, every other comic that Gambit's been in since X-Men #8! There are a whole bunch of his fawk ups that I left out because some figure into later chapters *coughcoughJoellecoughcough*_

_One more little edit: I'm often inspired by songs as I write. If you want to picture the look on Gambit's and Rogue's faces as she's laying into him about ''wrecking her life'', watch the duet part of Gotye's 'Somebody That I Used to Know'.  
_


	7. Chapter 7

Gambit jogged towards the intersection while Rogue stumbled along behind him, steadying herself by trailing one dainty hand along the aluminum siding of the tiny diner at the end of the street. Oblivious to the late night chowhounds, she didn't even try to duck down or look away as she crossed in front of the large windows, earning her a dirty look from the impatient Cajun. Peeking casually around the corner, he took note of two police cars and the small crowd of people milling about in front of the restaurant. He wondered what kind of lie the bartender and bouncer had coughed up, and fervently hoped that they wouldn't get in _too _much trouble for being good Samaritans. Luckily, it appeared that that the cops had yet to begin a search pattern. Diagonally across the street from his hiding spot was a church alleyway that led to the parking lot where the motorcycle was hidden, and as he waited for his date to catch up he considered the odds of making it across without being seen.

Glancing back over his shoulder when she was finally close enough to hear him, he said in an unusually cruel tone, "We're gon' have to make a run for it…You're not gon' do anythin' stupid, like fall over or run back to the police, are you?"

Rogue hunched over at the waist with her hands on her kneecaps, her face obscured by her long, wavy hair. She made a limp wristed gesture of dismissal at his skeptical expression.

"Jus' shay when."

"_Bien_. Ready? Set..." He waited for the traffic light to turn green, figuring that crossing on a red might give the odd passing car too much opportunity to study two fugitives sneaking across the street, "GO!"

Surprisingly, she stayed mostly upright as they froggered their way to the safety of the alley, their fleeing forms quickly disappearing into the darkness. Rogue squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the lack of light…and promptly plowed into Gambit as he skidded to an unannounced stop. He was more tipsy than he'd let on, and his knees buckled from unexpected extra weight. Regardless of his bitter state of mind, he still twisted in midair so that she wouldn't hit the ground first and grunted painfully as his back slammed into the gravel. Embarrassed, Rogue was about to snap out a mean comment when she realized why he'd stopped so suddenly: Slowly crawling down the street beyond the parking lot was a third police cruiser. Gambit curled protectively around her, clutching her head to his chest and rolling towards the wall just as a spotlight illuminated the space they had occupied a split second earlier. For what seemed like an eternity, they lay tangled in each other's arms, afraid to breathe and afraid to move, until the glaringly bright light finally moved on. Rogue cautiously lifted her head to confirm that the officer was truly gone, and drew back to look down at her disheveled rescuer. She inhaled sharply, confused by the way his furious expression conflicted with the gentle embrace that held her so tenderly. Ringed by red fire, his pupils glowed golden as they reflected the distant lamplight like cat's eyes in the dark, making him appear as though he were a vengeful demon straight from Dante's Inferno. Sometimes it was easy to see why so many people in his hometown referred to him as _Le Diable Blanc. (1)_

"Remy... Ah'm sor-," she tried to speak, but he cut off the apology with a shake of his head and roughly shoved her away.

"Save it, Rogue. You do this same shit every time. Get drunk, start a fight and kiss ass after. Only this time calling names wasn' enough, y' had to start wit' the personal stuff. I don't know what your problem is, but I ain't your whipping boy."

She knelt next to him, brushing off the pebbles that clung to her skin, and grumbled, "Fine, don't accept mah 'pology, ya melodramatic jackass. Nobody asked ya ta get involved."

Fighting the urge to yell, he wisely kept his voice down low as he rolled into a crouch and stuck an accusing finger in her face. "YES YOU DID! The minute you sent dat text message you _knew _I wouldn' say no!"

Standing up shakily, she put her hands on her hips and glowered defiantly at him. "Bullshit! Ya haven't talked ta me for weeks! Even so, it ain't like Ah twishted ya arm and _made _you say yes!"

Fuming, Gambit turned his back to her and inspected the parking lot. "What the hell kinda friend would I be if I didn't?! You were finally, _finally_ making progress wit' figuring out who you wanted to be, what you want from life...then suddenly y' went right back to being a hateful bitch who alienates anyone dat tries to help. I don't know what happened, but you need to let dat negative crap go before you turn into Logan!"

Rogue abruptly stomped past him into the deserted parking lot, ignoring his startled hiss as she cut a beeline towards the silhouette of the motorcycle. Her attitude clearly stated that she was done with the conversation and was leaving with or without him. In the span of a few heartbeats, he had jogged past her and leapt onto his seat, knocking the kickstand back and popping the transmission into neutral with a barely audible click. She calmly dug her hoodie out of the saddlebag and pulled it on as she slipped behind him, yanking the hood down over her forehead and tugging her gloves over her fingers. Gambit hunched low over the handlebars and pushed the heavy machine forward with a few powerful thrusts of his legs, waiting to start the engine until they'd rolled far enough away that it wouldn't draw any undue attention. He idled along the darkened residential streets, past row after row of quaint Cape Cod homes, only goosing the throttle enough to maintain forward momentum until the main highway came into view. Once he felt they were clear of danger, the Harley's engine roared and the speedometer quickly climbed into no-man's land.

He sped along recklessly at twice the speed limit, ripping around startled motorists on the four lane highway, until common sense overrode his anger and reminded him of the numerous speed traps lurking just out of sight. Rogue sat as far back on the seat as she could, holding on to the hem of his jacket with only the most perfunctory grip necessary to keep her balance. It had been far more pleasant to feel her arms around him on the ride out to the lighthouse, and he sighed inwardly at how quickly their evening had delved into disaster. He hadn't meant to hold her so closely in the alleyway, but the feeling had been so _right_ that it nearly negated the hurtful things she'd said. The way her grateful little smile had turned into a crestfallen frown when he'd pushed her away kept prickling relentlessly at his thoughts. Her disturbing behavior was bothering him to no end, and drunk or not, they were going to have it out once and for all.

As they neared the exit for Wantaugh State parkway, he impulsively took the turn south towards the beach. Not surprisingly, Rogue stiffened and knuckled him in the side when they slowed down for the curve of the exit ramp. (2)

"Where are ya goin'?!" she hollered over the wind.

"We need t' talk!" he shouted back, and then gunned the engine to drown out her heated response.

_Great. This is gonna be World War III, _Rogue sulked as she went back to staring at headlights in the rearview mirror. It was better to concentrate on them than the back of his head, which had become an awfully tempting target. Curiously, she realized the headlights were the same ones that had been behind them no matter which lane they'd occupied on the Long Island Expressway. After watching for a bit longer, she tugged urgently on Gambit's leather sleeve and reached over his right arm to point at the mirror in alarm. Concentrating intently on the road, he had become so engrossed in the things he wanted to say to her that he hadn't noticed that they were being followed.

_You're slipping, LeBeau! See what happens when you let her get to you?!_ He mentally kicked himself.

Without warning, he switched to the empty fast lane to see if the SUV would follow. Grumbling when it did, he eased off the throttle and yelled, "Anyone you recognize?"

In the mirror, her reflection shook its head: No.

The mystery pursuers must have realized that they had finally been spotted now that the late night traffic had thinned out, because something that suspiciously resembled a neon green tranquilizer dart suddenly whizzed past Rogue's left knee.

Immediately taking evasive action, the Cajun swerved hard right and twisted the throttle all the way open. Rogue latched on to his jeans and buried her nose between his shoulder blades as the Harley shot forward, putting several car lengths between them and their attackers in a matter of seconds. The SUV struggled to close the gap, its engine whining from the effort. Dimly lit shrubs and grass quickly blurred into black, swampy marshes as they crossed onto the first island that led towards Jones Beach, the headlights persistently remaining in the rearview. On the second island, however, Gambit had to slow down to avoid crashing through the empty toll booth gates. Before he could speed up again, a high pitched whistling sound made both X-Men jerk their heads around in alarm. The smoking projectile arced over them, exploding in front the bike with the force of a small bomb and blasting chunks of old pavement twenty feet into the air.

The motorcycle's tires squealed in protest as it slid around the flaming crater, narrowly avoiding the fallout of debris. Once they were clear, Gambit dug into his pocket and held a pack of playing cards over his shoulder, lightly whacking Rogue's cheek with the cardboard box as he steered with his other hand.

"I can't get a clear shot wit' you in the way, you gotta take them out!"

She immediately recoiled at the unspoken demand to absorb his powers. The alcohol had already skewed the results once that evening, and she couldn't be sure that he would be able to block his memories sufficiently to let her absorb only his mutant ability. Just the notion of his angry thoughts running rampant around her head in the midst of a fight was enough to make her scoot back even further on the seat.

"NO! Just gun it, ya almost lost them before an' ya can do it again!"

"We're about to run outta road here, and in case y' hadn't noticed: _**They shootin' RPG's at us**_!"

As if on cue, a second grenade landed just off the shoulder to the left, showering them with pebbles and bits of broken shrubbery as Gambit instinctively swerved away from the blast.

"Goddamnit woman, do it!" he cried, offering the pack again after he had stabilized the wobbly bike. They were rapidly approaching a drawbridge, and there would be no escaping if their pursuers blew it out from under them.

Swearing under her breath, she ripped the glove off of her right hand with her teeth and firmly clasped his outstretched fingers, sandwiching the cards between their palms. Gambit gasped as Rogue's leeching ability pulled far harder than necessary, his mind scrambling to remember random thoughts as fast as possible. The last thing he needed was for her to take anything important or worse, any memories that could be used against him. The back of his neck started to pale and his grip on the throttle loosened, causing the Harley to slow dangerously.

As she released him she couldn't help smiling wickedly at the kinetic charging ability that surged through her veins in a delightful current. Her fingertips tingled, more so once she had ripped open the package and coaxed the molecules of the cards into a vibrating frenzy. Closing her eyes against the wave of memories that flashed across the backs of her eyelids, when she opened them again the velvety black landscape around them didn't seem as dark anymore; it was almost as if she were wearing night vision goggles.

Half-turning in place, Rogue quickly scanned the distance between their tail light and the front of the SUV. A grossly misshapen figure was crammed awkwardly through the sunroof, leveling his weapon for another shot; She spat out an expletive in French as she recognized M'Zee, the Red Skull's turtle-shaped heavy hitter. A glowing trio of Aces flew from her fingers while the bike roared across the bridge, exploding in rapid succession against the grille of the Suburban and shattering the windshield as well as blowing out the left front tire. Clouds of white steam billowed up from the mangled hood and the bare rim sent up a rooster tail of sparks as the driver struggled to stay on the road. (3)

"I take it y' know who they are now?" Gambit said, slowing down to a more sedate speed so that she could hear him. Something about her tone when she'd cursed made him think that their adversaries were tougher than the usual hired thugs and probably shouldn't be allowed to roam free.

"Skull's goons," she answered simply, leaning back and watching the disabled SUV steadily draw closer, its engine knocking and sputtering. The outline of the reptilian hitman had disappeared from the roof but she doubted M'Zee would able to aim through the hazy fog of coolant.

"Gonna call your '_buddies_' to round 'em up?" he asked as he glanced at her, the hint of sarcasm in his tone making her turn back around to face him. Although Rogue had absorbed his powers repeatedly over the years, he still flinched uncontrollably when he saw his own lava colored eyes staring back from her pretty face.

"No, actually. Stop up dere by dem buildings inna middle a' the road," she sneered in a mix of Yat and Mississippi accents, patting his shoulder condescendingly. "_Some_body implied dat Ah cain't handle mahself and dat Ah treat his dumb ass like a _whippin' boy. _So Ah'm gon' find mahself a punchin' bag an' show him what a whuppin' act'ly looks like."

"Oh for the love of…!" he said with a snort. "I didn' say it like dat!"

"Whatevah, crétin. Ah owe dese idjits a beatin' for kidnaping me anyway," she bared her teeth ferally, a frightful mockery of a smile that reminded him very much of Mystique. "Y'all ain't de only one who been shot dis past month." (4)

Twisting around once more, she flung a pair of charged cards at the truck's under body. The concussive detonations lifted the tires from the ground as if the Skull's crew had driven over a land mine. Three tons of Detroit steel cartwheeled spectacularly into the median, sliding to a stop on its roof just past the turnaround lane. A hundred feet away, Gambit cut across the center of the road, the motorcycle bobbing across the sandy grass until he stopped by the empty maintenance building.

Normally, he would have argued more with her, but deep down he knew that most effective way for his best friend to burn out her fiery temper would always involve some form of gratuitous violence. Besides, whatever problem was eating away at her could probably benefit from administering some long overdue ass kicking. Rogue slipped off the seat and marched right at the wrecked SUV, focusing intently on the stumbling bodies that poured out of it in clown-car fashion. The first two soldiers to get their bearings straightened out immediately and opened fire with their strange looking guns.

"Go get 'em, chere!" Gambit called out with an entertained chuckle, shrugging out of his jacket and leaning back on his bike to watch the show.

He crossed his arms over his chest and admired the graceful way she used his Savate moves to evade the tranquilizer darts, spinning and sliding around them until she'd breeched the henchmen's defenses. No longer the stumbling drunk that had knocked him down in the alley, he suspected that she had let his psyche take over her muscle functions while she vicariously enjoyed the damage that it caused.

"Don' you '_chere_' me, asshole!" she shouted as she punched a maroon-clad assailant in the face and used the man's own arm to gun down a bizarre looking creature that was crawling out of the driver's window. The goat-faced thing slumped unceremoniously to the ground, sprouting plastic feathered darts like a nightmarish porcupine. "You seriously snuck inta the mansion jus' ta watch me sleep again?! Ya do realize dat's a creepy factuh of 12 onna scale a' one ta ten, right?"

_Heh, this gon' be a hoot_, he smiled to himself as he contemplated a handful of ways to mess with her before his thoughts faded from the forefront of her mind. "What can I say, I like you best when you ain't telling me off or trying to knock me into next week!"

"Ah got half a mind ta shoot _you_ wit' dis thing!" Rogue spun her dazed prey around and squeezed his trigger finger again, shooting another goon square in the buttcheek. As the surprised fellow fell, she noted out of the corner of her eye that the giant tortoise was still struggling to free himself from the wreckage of the upside-down SUV. "Was it really dat hard ta pick up the damned phone and just_ call _if'n ya missed me so much?!"

Clearing his throat, the thief's voice rang out in a melodious tenor as he tapped his foot rhythmically. "_**Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper than they seem, you'd rather cover up but I'd rather let them bleed. So let me be and I'll set you free!"**_

Rogue froze, her victim's head firmly locked in a choke hold, and blinked rapidly at the memory that caught her unawares.

__**"I am in misery, there ain't nobody who can comfort me…**_" _Gambit continued singing loudly, but she heard it as the actual song, being played from a tinny set of computer speakers.

_X-23 was looking up from the computer screen, a rare expression of amusement on her young face as she pointed at the blonde model in the music video. Smugly, she said, "This reminds me of your ex-girlfriend."_

"_Rogue is a brunette, petit," he laughed._

_Laura looked at him like he was a half-wit. "I meant the violence."_

_Rogue could feel Gambit's consternation as he'd replied, "C'mon now, we don' act dat bad..."_

"_You hit each other with your words."_

"What the _hell_!?" Rogue's brow furrowed and she shook her head violently to dispel the image.

The struggling henchman punched her in the ribs and slipped through the crook of her arm, leaving his cloth face mask behind in the process. Winded, she grabbed for him but a flash of fuchsia light went off at the man's feet, sending him skyward and bombarding her with sand and stones.

"_**Girl, ya really got me bad, I'm gonna get you back**_," Gambit grinned as he looked down at his spare deck, shuffling the cards from hand to hand as though he were bored.

"This ain't a musical, _couyon_! (idiot)" She shouted grouchily even as she stifled a smile. He used to sing to her all the time, whether making breakfast or harassing her into a late night romp between the sheets.

The reminder of the closeness that they'd lost rekindled her ire into a burning resentment. Unleashing a ferocity that would have made Wolverine applaud, she nailed an attacker with a vicious uppercut, breaking the man's jaw in at least two places. Clutching his face, he screamed in pain. She took advantage of his distraction by using him as a human springboard to jump onto his team mate's shoulders, perversely enjoying the feel of his collarbone cracking under the pressure of her foot. In the blink of an eye she had locked her thighs around the second thug's neck, utilizing her momentum and weight to swing downwards and away; the much larger man was flipped head over heels and the back of his skull smashed into the sun baked ground.

"Damnnn, fille!" Gambit exclaimed, reaching down to pull his collapsed bo-staff out of his right boot before she could hog all the fun. His hand came up empty. He yanked off his steel-toed footwear and flipped it upside down while giving it a hearty shake. "What the..?!"

Looking up, he spotted the flash of silver as one of the muggers clutched his stomach and nearly fell over. Rogue pirouetted on the tips of her toes; a beautiful dancer who swung like a golf pro as she brought the full force of the stolen staff up to the second soldier's jaw. The man's head snapped backwards from the impact and she gleefully yelled 'FOOOOOURR!'.

"Missin' somethin' dere, sugah?" she taunted, nimbly sidestepping the soldier that she'd gut-punched as he yelled an insult and tried to charge at her from behind. Without even looking, she cracked the man across the back of his neck with the staff, dropping him face first into the weeds. "Ya best hurry up or dere ain't gon' be any leftovers f'ya!"

"Oh _non_, mam'selle- I'd **hate **t' make another mess for you ta _clean up,_" Gambit sniped as he hopped in place and pulled on his boot. Stalking towards her like a tiger eyeing up its dinner, he held his hand over his heart in mock insult.

Rogue twirled the bo-staff warningly as he drew near and straightened up to his full 6'2". Unfazed by the threat, the lean Cajun glowered down at her, an unspoken challenge to take back the hurtful words she'd said after their escape from the restaurant. Her eyelashes fluttered guiltily under his accusing glare, and she breathed a small sigh before looking away. Mollified by her apparent remorse, he was reaching up to touch her face when she suddenly turned back to him and flipped the bo-staff up with a flourish. The wily Avenger slid her arms around his neck and let the cold metal rod fall horizontally across his broad shoulders, using it to pull him tantalizingly close. Gambit's malcontent went right out the window as she pressed against him, melding her warm body suggestively to his own. For a moment he forgot why he'd been pissed at this addictive rebel who stole his breath away.

As much as she savored their intimate proximity, Rogue was barely tolerating his psyche's insolent attitude regarding her hurtful comment earlier; she certainly wasn't going to roll over and beg forgiveness from the real thing. Her husky voice was hot against his lips as she sang mockingly, "_**If happy ever after did exist, Ah would still be holding you like this... All those fairy tales are full of shit- one more $#%ing love song, Ah'll be sick**_."

Gambit frowned and made a mental note to destroy every Maroon Five album on the planet.

Grinning evilly, she whacked him upside the head with his own weapon. As she pushed him backwards, laughing mockingly, a deafening roar erupted from the driver side of the Suburban. A giant, enraged tortoise stood up from where it had been hunched over its fallen team mate and launched at Rogue with extraordinary speed for such a cumbersome looking beast. Unfortunately, as fast as her stolen reflexes were, they were still stolen and she was still drunk. She went down hard when M'Zee clipped her in passing, his scaly hide ripping the skin and muscle from her left arm as he swung wildly at Gambit.

"HOLY SHIT!" he shrieked, diving out of the hard-shelled tank's way and scrambling across the asphalt to lead it away from Rogue, who was groggily trying to stand up. "You pissed off the _teenage mutant ninja turtles?!_"

Gambit's amusement died the instant that M'Zee overshot his mark and brutally knocked the Harley over in his attempt to stop and turn, causing him to utter a hateful cry. (5)

"I am the unstoppable force and the lord of physical will!" The huge reptile bellowed, spittle flying from his curved beak as he turned his beady eyes on the dark haired man crouching defensively on the opposite side of the road. "We are to bring you to our master, one way or another! You **will** serve the Red Skull!"

"Really? Dat's the best y' got?" Gambit seethed, sparkling cards flaring to life in both of his hands as if by magic. "You villains are all the same; always wit' the boring speeches, goin' around breakin' up perfectly good dates- it's time t' go back to the sewers, Donatello!"

Rogue had regained her feet and turned her head from the blinding flashes as the cards burst against M'Zee's chest with enough force to knock the Juggernaut-wannabe onto his back. He flailed helplessly and roared in fury when the Cajun landed a powerful kick to his thick skull, yelling about revenge for his poor bike.

"At what point was dis evah a date, Gumbo?" She shouted to him as she flicked away the blood that was trickling down into her remaining glove.

"Are y' kiddin' me, chere?! We had a good time, we said some nasty things to each other, and twice now people have tried ta kill us. This is _officially _a date!" He laughed riotously, jumping in place to avoid M'zee's swiping claws.

_... _

_This took way longer than I was expecting because I discovered a massive 'oops' in my story's timeline :x I'm not going to say what it is in the hopes that I can correct it in a later chapter without anyone catching on, but suffice to say, it was a pretty big fail and I've had to rethink the entirety of all the crap I had already written. *sigh* I'm really not happy with this chapter- it feels like I'm missing out on a lot of description in the fight scenes, so I may alter it after I re-read it about 50 more times and everyone picks it apart. Random side note for fellow Rogue fans: If you haven't read Marvel Knights yet, you should! The art isn't all that great, but the plot is wonderful compared to UA. _

_1) I have no idea if his eyes actually reflect light like a cat's, but I would imagine his mutation gives him an edge over the normal spectrum of human vision. It would certainly help explain how he became a master thief with amazing reflexes. _

_2) Most of my family is from Seaford and Queens, but it's been a loooong time since I got to wander around Jones Beach. Hopefully any Long Islanders reading this will forgive my discrepancies. Thank goodness for Google Earth!_

_3) I __**REALLY**__ don't like Chevies. _

_4) Uncanny Avengers #3. Took a nasty shot to her right shoulder from the Red Skull's pistol. And then Alex beat the snot out of her._

_5) Seriously, how has no one made a TMNT reference in UA yet?!_

_Oh, and I have nothing against Maroon 5! I never really paid attention to their songs until I stumbled across the "Misery" video last week and instantly thought, "Omg, that is SO Rogue!" lol. _


	8. Chapter 8

Chuckling despite her disagreement with his observation, Rogue turned back towards the Suburban and picked up the bo-staff with her good hand. On the edge of her peripheral vision, there was movement by the rear bumper and she raised her eyes to investigate. Startled by the strange mutant looking his way, the last remaining soldier jumped up from the bush he'd been cowering behind and rabbited across the highway.

_Must be a newbie, _she thought. Looking back at her ex-boyfriend, who was raining ineffective blows on the downed turtle-man, she shouted, "Gambit, we got a runner!"

She pulled off her soaked glove and pitched the staff across the road, javelin style. He caught it easily, biceps bulging against his shirt sleeves as he whirled around like a dervish to crack it against M'Zee's head with both hands.

"I got dis, go get him so we can get the hell outta here b'fore the cops catch on!"

Briefly leaning down to brush her fingers against Goat Faced Girl's furry forehead as a precaution, Rogue favored the snoring minion with a lopsided smile. The strange looking woman would probably be out cold for a week thanks to the sheer amount of tranquilizer running through her system. Snatching up a gun loaded with darts, the Avenger sprinted after the hysterical thug, who had already crossed the bicycle path and was frantically trying to mayday for help on his walkie talkie. When he realized that the woman with the white streak and glowing eyes was hot on his heels, he started screaming about 'devils' and wailed pitifully before diving headfirst into the scrub brush along the side of the road. The sounds of explosions echoing off of turtle shell were quickly muffled by the tall reeds as she charged in after him, using the gun to cover her left arm so that the sharp twigs wouldn't catch on her shredded sleeve.

"Why won' you pass out already, _vous tortue stupide_?! (you stupid turtle)" Gambit said crossly as he used his staff to shove the incapacitated reptile across the road, its shell grating against the rough surface.

"You cannot stop me with your piddly little fireworks," M'Zee sneered and grabbed the metal rod to roll himself over.

"You might be right," the X-Man admitted, wrenching his weapon away, "But you can't hit what you can't catch!"

Springing out of the tortoise's reach, Gambit spared a glance at the bursts of pink lightning in the distance, illuminating what appeared to be a large, run down house. The momentary lack of concentration was all the opening M'Zee needed to clobber him with one massive fist, sending the Cajun tumbling down the embankment and into the thorny shrubs.

"Me an' my big mouth," he said, wincing as he untangled himself from the barbed twigs just in time to avoid being flattened by several hundred pounds of determined terrapin.

The booming echo of a grenade caught his attention, and he ducked through the bushes to emerge on a rough path, the staff making a sharp 'shakt' sound as it collapsed at the press of a hidden button. He stowed it back in his boot and was off and running before his enormous opponent could catch him, thinking that his brother Henri would be rolling in the grave from laughter to see the great Remy LeBeau getting distracted by the same _femme_ after all these years.

Leaping across the marshy hillocks while M'Zee bulldozed his way through everything, he nearly faceplanted into a narrow tributary stream that crisscrossed the spongy lane. Quickly taking several steps back, he sprang over the murky water as gracefully as a gazelle and tucked his legs up in midair for extra thrust, landing aft of a soft-looking quagmire. Unfortunately for the heavy chelonian, the bog acted much like quicksand; he sunk in the mire right up to his thick waist.

"Never chase a swamp rat through the marsh- you'll lose every time!" Gambit cackled at his bellowing enemy, waving his middle finger over his shoulder as he jogged across the soggy moor.

In short order the dark hulk of an isolated water treatment building loomed overhead and the ground firmed up considerably; Gambit had come across the old blacktop road leading around the facility. Taking care not to tread on any of the broken glass from what used to be the front windows, he followed the blackened craters that pockmarked the driveway. They led to a set of large, freshwater holding tanks at the outskirts of the compound, where he spied a pair of shadowy figures by the wall of an outlying shack. Rogue had her mark pinned to the weathered wood, threatening him with a tranquilizer gun that crackled with roseate incandescence. Her jeans were scorched and torn and the hoodie was lying in a smoking pile- apparently the goon had managed to get the drop on her.

"Las' time, ya waste a' space! WHO DID YA JUST CALL?!" she demanded, the rage in her voice tinged with desperation. (1)

"Y-you'll find out s-soon enough!" the henchman stuttered in a sad attempt at bravado.

Disgusted, she released her grip on his fatigues and let him drop to the ground, then took a step back and opened fire, the dart stabbing through the reinforced material into his chest. Although the man passed out instantly, the neon colored fletching flared like the fuse on a roman candle. Rogue did a double take as she bent down to pat at her smoldering pants and made a panicked grab at the little projectile, only to have it explode in her hand as she tried to throw it away. Landing on her rump with a startled exhalation, she shook the burning embers from her fingers while the soldier slumbered blissfully, completely oblivious to the fact that his ribcage had almost become a wind chime.

"Toldja I was havin' trouble controllin' my power since Faiza used Excalibur on me," Gambit said affably as he strutted out from the darkness, inadvertently causing her to jump at the sound of his voice. "Seems t' be at its most unpredictable when my emotions are, uhm…really amped up." (2)

He held out a hand to help her stand, noting that although the lining of her eyes was still black, her irises had turned a vibrant jade color. His borrowed powers were already wearing off.

She smirked knowingly as she pulled herself up and said, "Heh. Ah see dat. How many tissues didja blow up before ya ruined dat poor, innocent couch? At least ya ain't had ta shave 'down there' for a while though."

Gambit's jaw dropped open and for once he was completely speechless. Then he angrily mouthed the F-bomb and lowered his head, looking anywhere but at her. Rogue's smirk graduated to a full blown Cheshire Cat grin at the sight of him attempting to act as though he wasn't incredibly embarrassed that she had absorbed the memory of him relieving himself of an abundance of sexual tension... and accidentally blasting a hole in his sofa's cushion. Being unable to completely control his mutant ability was a contributing factor to his temporary forced celibacy; for the lady-loving Cajun it was akin to being imprisoned by his own body. The situation was completely unacceptable, but thus far he had been too mortified to ask for help from any of their numerous science-minded friends. Since the excessive power surge had only manifested a handful of times in the weeks after his near death experience, he was banking on the hope that it would eventually fade back to normal. (3)

"Are you actually _blushing_, Gumbo?" Rogue asked humorously, the urgency of their situation temporarily forgotten as she silently thanked the ghost voice in the back of her mind for the insight. She reached out to grasp his rough chin between her thumb and forefinger and tried to pull his face back around. Stubble was already growing on his jawline, despite being shaved off six hours earlier.

"It's très mauvais (really evil) to pick on a man's pride and joy, Anna," he said harshly, slapping her hand away and coldly turning his back to her as he peered cautiously out into the marsh. Deciding that M'Zee was nowhere near, he headed towards the road with quickness in his step. "Let's go already."

"Oh mah Gawd, you _ARE _blushing!" she chortled as she chased after him, brazenly ducking in front of his torso for another look. She tilted her head as she examined the evidence, a whimsical smile on her lips. Even in the heat of passion, she'd never seen his chiseled cheeks flush so intensely. It was a rare occasion indeed when she actually managed to turn the tables on him, and she savored the fact that she'd gotten under _his_ skin for a change. Smugly, she added, "Ain't so funny ta be on the receiving end, is it?"

Stopping as if he'd hit an invisible wall, his concern about making a hasty departure was abruptly relocated to the back burner by his proud nature. Rogue rarely ever hit below the belt like this, especially in such a provocative manner. Knowing that his own indecent personality was influencing her tongue didn't make it acceptable to pick on such a sore subject.

He raised an eyebrow, trying like hell to ignore the burning sensation across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and poked his pointer finger into the crinkles of amusement on her forehead. Feigning indifference, he asked, "Is my psyche still hangin' out in there?"

"Bien sûr, mon chér," she said playfully as she practically _felt_ him swear never to volunteer his powers again, "You t'ink Ah come up wit' dis stuff by mahself?"

"Then ask him to remind you what dis means," Gambit said with a little growl as he grabbed her hips and pulled her body upwards so that the tips of her boots barely touched the ground. Putting his mouth against her ear, he breathed a low, guttural groan that ended in a sensual gasp; it was the same noise he made just before orgasm. Although he was tempted to lick her earlobe for good measure, he held off for fear that she would injure her arm worse if she tried to hit him.

When he let go, she stumbled backwards with a throaty gasp and nearly fell, her cheeks even more scarlet than his own. She clamped her knees together to stem the warm ache flooding her lower extremities, mortification written clearly across her face at whatever lascivious memory the sound had dredged up. Digging her thumbs into her temples, she squeezed as though she could pop her head like bubble wrap and uttered in a strangled voice, "Ahhh…! Unnff, ohh..oh, no...! ARGH, _git outta mah head already, you goddamned pain in mah ass_!"

"What's dat ol' sayin'? Play wit' fire..." Gambit smiled wryly, and then he bit the tip of his tongue to keep from saying anything more. He would have happily pursued the opportunity to tease her relentlessly if they weren't in such a rush to distance themselves from their villainous attackers, especially since it had been years since his innuendo had gotten this extreme of a reaction.

Getting back on track, he pushed her towards the scraggly tree that he'd marked as being a less dangerous route, but was unable to resist the temptation of sliding his long fingers under the back of the singed camisole to caress her bare skin, stopping only when his fingertip touched the strap of her bra. The carnal groan she tried to suppress from the physical contact reminded him to keep his own feelings under control, lest he accidentally incinerate her clothing. Rogue punched at his wrist, flicking a few red drops onto his forearm in the process.

"Jus'…just don't touch me 'til this wears off," she said, taking the point and putting more space between them as she made her way through the prickly undergrowth. Unhappily, she grumbled, "Ah would'a been so much better off if Ah'd ended up wit' the 'angry you' dat Ah was afraid Ah'd get, instead of 'pervert you'."

"Somebody's a little tense...Been awhile since you got any action either, neh?" He couldn't make himself behave. He just couldn't. "Yo' ass is wound up so tight I bet I couldn' drive a toothpick up it with a sledgehammer."

Rogue paused in mid-stride and turned very slowly in his direction; her withering glare would have cowed a more insecure man. "Redneck analogies? Really?"

"Can take the boy outta the bayou but y' can't take the bayou outta the boy," her antagonizer shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Ah swear Ah'm gonna hit ya so hard dat you'll starve ta death before ya quit slidin', so how 'bout you shut your trap and watch out for Cecil Turtle an' the rest of the looney toons." (4)

"Threaten all y' want, chere, but y' didn't answer my question," he said breezily as he brushed past, jumping onto a section of bleached driftwood and leering down at her while balancing cockily on one foot.

Without any warning, she kicked the old log, causing him to hang suspended in space for a moment as his arms windmilled wildly. His boot heel slid on the mossy slime and he fell into a stagnant tide pool with a loud splash. Spluttering indignantly, Gambit struggled to sit up in the boggy water, his clothes completely soaked through. Thankfully, his phone was in a waterproof case and his wallet was made from Kevlar; he had learned long ago to procure only the toughest materials to protect his essentials.

"What and _who _Ah do ain't any of ya business anymore, jerk," she bristled as she sloshed across a shallow embankment. She should have stopped there, but resentment reared its ugly head at his repeated attempt to push her buttons. "Or did ya forget that _you_ broke up with _me_?"

Glaring after her with a mix of contempt and frustration while he peeled his sopping wet hair from his face, the hurt that he'd let fester for so long rose as bile in the back of his throat. When he had first shown an interest in her, Xavier and Wolverine had drilled into his head that Rogue was a wild spirit who would not be pushed into anything she didn't want, and if his intentions were anything less than pure then he would have been forced to quit the team. Even his best friend Storm had been particularly adamant that if he wanted the untouchable spitfire to reciprocate his feelings, he had to be patient. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way he had let himself be steamrolled by Rogue's actions and ambitions, never questioning and never complaining for fear that he would scare off the best thing that had ever happened in a lifetime of shitty decisions and even shittier consequences. For a short while, when they lived happily in Valle Soleada as a genuine couple, he had believed that his continued sufferance had been worth it. But then she started drifting away again, and waffled when he'd admitted that he still loved her. That had been the final straw for him.

"Considerin' the fact dat you hopped into Erik's bed _before the day we broke up had even _**_ended_**, I'd say I was justified," he snapped heatedly at her departing back as he searched the muck for his missing boot. It had pulled free from his foot when he'd tried to stand up. "Look at my memories, Anna, see what dat did to me instead of acting like you don' care!"

Completely against her will but unable to fight his anguished command, she stopped dead in her tracks as his psyche forced a surge of vivid recollections to assault her mind. Her eyes smarted with tears and she grimaced at the vision of Gambit furiously punching a hole in the wall of his bedroom on the island haven of Utopia and then drinking himself into a dejected stupor the morning that he had found out that she and Magneto had slept together. Rogue had never known about his violent outburst until now, since he'd hidden his true reaction under a mask of carefully fabricated apathy. Pretending to be okay with the fact that she had gone after someone else within hours of professing his love, the Cajun had rationalized the awkward situation by making himself believe that it didn't matter _whom_ she was with...just as long as she was happy. Still, his profound feelings of betrayal, yearning and humiliation from being a cuckolded fool trolled her mind, accompanied by a bevy of fragmented images from months of observing her from a distance as she'd cozied up to the infamous terrorist. (5)

"Stop it, Remy," she pleaded in a soft tone, tiredly rubbing her hand across her face. Knowing she had hurt him so badly was making her feel woozy, and her legs no longer felt as sure as they had ten minutes earlier. "It ain't fair usin' ya thoughts against me like dat. If you could see mine, you'd know dat Ah was really upset at how ya misinterpreted what Ah said. It hurt me more than Ah can say when ya jumped the gun and wouldn't let me explain that mah reasoning. Ah said Legacy didn' know if she kissed you out of attraction or 'cause of the adrenaline rush because ta me _they're the same damned feeling_!"

She had gone another ten feet before she realized that not only was he not behind her, but there had been no hurtful retort. A sound like boiling water chilled her to the bone, and she clenched her fist before slowly turning around, hoping beyond hope that her intuition was wrong.

Suspended in an dripping, egg shaped cocoon made entirely of sea water, Gambit was barely visible in its murky depths. Terror surged through her; she realized that he was drowning by the eerily silent way that he thrashed about as he desperately attempted to break free from the crushing pressure. Rising from the nearly emtpy pool below him, her watery tentacles slapping wetly at the reeds, was a woman made completely of a blue liquid that shimmered surreally in the moonlight. M'Zee was standing by her side, glaring at the man who had humiliated him and flexing the muscles in his forearms as though he'd like nothing better than to tear Gambit limb from limb. Clad in a red, Grecian style toga, Dancing Water raised her chin haughtily to look down her aquiline nose at Rogue.

"Ahh, Magneto's whore. So good to see you again."

_... _

_This chapter brought to you by the Kongos and Volbeat, who I've been listening to on repeat for the last week. _

_Oh boy, more sexual tension and angst! It's been a royal pain trying to think up sound reasoning to justify that whole "Hey, I'll just go jump in Magneto's bed!" BS from Legacy #249 -.- I've been neglecting my boyfriend and the cats to the point that I think they may be forgetting who I am, haha. Thank you all for your compliments and continued support- any time I start feeling down about finishing this story, I re-read my reviews and it perks me up again!_

_1) SOO hard not to write "Ghostbusters!" after that remark…_

_2) Gambit #17 (Volume 4)_

_3) Gambit #24ish (Volume 3). I edited this to clarify the original script, since no one seemed to get what I was hinting at, lol. Gambit nearly lost control of his power during the New Son arc, and although he utilized a static charge to let him be intimate with Rogue, eventually his charging ability started to hurt her when they touched. I'm really surprised that Marvel doesn't show more power control mishaps- to me it's rather unbelievable that even the most well trained mutants never seem to have any 'accidents'. _

__4) Google Image search, keywords "Cecil Turtle" for you young whippersnappers ;)__

_5) X-Men Legacy #249. So much hogwash, ugh.  
_

_Edit #1,546,778: Sorry! Half of my 'views' are probably from me re-reading the script and adjusting it...AGAIN. Seriously, if you check back in two days, it'll probably be a completely different story, LOL. _


	9. Chapter 9

_~Just a little note- you may want to go back and re-read chapter 8 before you continue, since I did some rearranging and played with a few of the paragraphs to convey what I was trying to write in a clearer fashion. Sorry this one is so short compared to the others, but I figured some was better than none. I really need to stop posting these things at 3am, lol. ~_

Over the years and multitudes of enemies that she'd fought, there was one consistent trigger that would instantly and irrevocably earn any would-be attacker the entirety of Rogue's wrath: Attempting to harm Remy LeBeau. Regardless of the current strife between them, the connection that had started so long ago as a passing flirtation had been forged into an unbreakable bond by many intense and life-altering experiences. Despite their best efforts to ignore it (and one another), the attachment endured and remained far stronger than either would willingly acknowledge at this point in their friendship- until those precious few moments when faced with the possibility of death. It was always unfortunate when the more shrewd of their adversaries figured out the unwavering nature of that link and took advantage of it, using one as an Achilles heel to fire up the other's impulsive and often savage over-reaction.

Dancing Water knew none of this, and was genuinely surprised to find herself faced with a considerably more hostile attitude from the canny and reserved mutant that she had clashed with in New York City. The Red Skull had trained his lackeys well, but even his most talented soldier still had an urge to back away from the sheer hatred emanating from the Mississippi marauder's intense glare. Just as Gambit had unthinkingly broken the arm of the wretch who had tried to shoot her in the bar, Rogue moved without a second thought, immediately raising her weapon as she strode towards the watery assassin.

In a tone heavily laden with animosity, she snarled, "Let him go- your fight is wit' me!"

"My master sent me here for you, true, but I think he might like this one as well," the villain replied, gesturing grandly towards the watery prison she'd created. Despite her posturing, however, the tiniest bit of uneasiness had crept into her voice. She was no doubt remembering the thorough trouncing that the Avengers had doled out during their last confrontation.

"Then he's gon' be mighty disappointed. We don' take kindly ta genocidal dictators."

Rogue tried to command a kinetic charge into the weapon but instead of charging up the darts, the barrel merely fizzled in a pitiful display of sparks. Suddenly, the night sky seemed to darken and her step faltered as the disorienting feeling of becoming instantly drunk overwhelmed her. Panicked, she thought, _Oh no, not now! NOT NOW! _

"Ha! That is hilarious coming from you, the one who sought affection from Magneto! One of the most violent _murderers_ that history has ever seen! If The Red Skull did not desire your 'skills', I would kill you myself just for your sheer stupidity. But you and your friend here might be valuable assets- I saw how much damage you wreaked upon my comrades."

Dancing Water spared a withering glance at her turtle-shelled companion, who, although he was still staring at the water pod, looked shamefaced at the accusation. The doubtful captain had seen her enemy's hesitation and it renewed her confidence in winning a battle without the full S-team roster to back them up. With a self-satisfied smile, she turned her attention to her captive, who was spinning violently inside the mini whirlpool that she'd created inside the bubble. "Then again, I am sure he would not mind indulging his favorite soldier if I decided to do away with this pathetic…thing."

Adrenaline supercharged Rogue's arteries and she charged the last few feet at her enemy, only to be catapulted into the air by a sudden geyser of mud and sand. The stunned Avenger instinctively corkscrewed her body around, landing clumsily on her feet and somehow managing to stay upright despite the soft, marshy ground. Gambit had ceased moving and the only thing visible through the foamy mire was a crumpled boot, spinning around aimlessly at the bottom of the quivering globe.

_C'mon, Remy- Ah know ya can hold your breath longer than this…! _Rogue worried as she yanked down the cartridge in the gun, hopping precariously between gushers that seemed to spring up every time one of her feet hit the ground. Covertly snapping the tips from the next three darts, she then jammed the ammo back into place and mentally crossed her fingers before unleashing the entire clip at her foe. Her aim was true; every single one found its mark.

With a disbelieving laugh, the water-woman looked down at her midsection and scoffed at the diminutive projectiles floating around where her bellybutton should have been. "I had thought that you were smarter than _that_, you ignorant trailer trash."

At the sight of the milky serum seeping out from the broken darts and mixing with her bodily fluid, however, her expression turned into one of shock.

"If Ah'm trailer trash, what's that make you? Sewage?" Rogue sneered, throwing the gun at her as well.

Dancing Water ducked and immediately dropped the hand that had been controlling the hovering death orb, clawing at her midsection as if it were possible to somehow spill her own guts. The giant ball of water ruptured, and amidst the deluge Gambit's limp frame flopped back into the tidal pool like a fish from a shattered aquarium. Face down in the muddy water, he bobbed once before slipping beneath the surface. M'Zee gleefully jumped in beside him and held the Cajun underwater with both of his gnarled paws, ensuring that his enemy would not wake again.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, Rogue would remember later that she screamed, but at that moment the few coherent thoughts that her addled brain could grasp were instantly overruled by blind rage. She lunged for Dancing Water's throat, intent on stealing her powers to drive off the giant reptile. Unnerved, the Red Skull's assassin slithered back onto the grass out of fearful self-preservation and flung up a thick wall of water, effectively hitting her attacker in the face and knocking her flat on her ass. Rogue practically bounced back up, completely disregarding her bloody nose. Desperate, Dancing Water nailed her full in the chest with a burst of firehose-like pressure, flinging her headfirst into the reeds by the pool.

Her ears ringing from the impact with the ground, the dazed southerner rolled onto her back and struggled to reorient her senses. Just as she stopped seeing double, M'Zee's flabbergasted cry echoed across the marsh. His armored gauntlets were glowing brightly and the water in the basin was bubbling as though it were a hot tub backlit by brilliant pink neon. A split second later, twin explosions rocked the giant tortoise backwards, spraying everything in a ten foot radius with chunks of seaweed and mud as Gambit erupted from the roiling pool with a tremendous gasp. He dragged himself over to the bank, looking for all intents and purposes like he could have been Swamp Thing's half-dead twin.

"Oh thank goodness," Rogue exclaimed gratefully, the fear instantly lifting from her chest as she tried, unsuccessfully, to pull his steaming body up onto the grass. Her cowboy boots kept slipping in the silt and she could barely keep herself upright, let alone lift up almost two hundred pounds of soggy X-Man.

He pushed himself the last few feet and rested on his knees and elbows next to her, lungs wracked by dry heaves while his ex-girlfriend helpfully slapped his back. After he'd coughed up a stream of saltwater and endured a few painful whacks, he caught her hand in mid swing and squeezed it reassuringly.

"Y' about to «hrrk» break my damn ribs, chere," he rasped out.

"Just trying ta smack some sense into ya," she said, fortitude emboldening her tone as she eyed the blurry body lying in the grass on the other side of the crater that was once a tide pool. The woman's normally translucent skin had turned opaque and the giant turtle was slowly crawling towards her, his massive arms smoking where bloody chunks of flesh had been burned off.

"Never happen," Gambit joked flatly, sparing a glance at Rogue and noting the unsteady way she half rose into a defensive crouch. Through the rips in her jeans, he could make out her supple leg muscles flexing alternately from side to side with the effort of keeping upright. "T'anks for the warning about the homicidal squid woman, by the way."

"Mah bad," she grimaced, her nose scrunching up apologetically as she kept watch on the henchmen. "Ah was goin' to say something before _somebody_ insisted on aggravating me to the point of distraction. Name's 'Dancing Water'. She can teleport through any bit o' water, and can control it, too. Said she was Avalanche's daughter the first time we tussled… Ah didn't even know Dominick had a kid. Cap thinks the Skull brainwashed him into causing all that damage in the city last month." (1)

M'Zee reached his team mate and was cautiously pulling her up into a sitting position. Although Rogue had turned her head towards Gambit while she was speaking, her gaze didn't catch up until a few seconds later; she was reluctant to take her eyes off the enemy for even a moment. To her surprise, he was staring intently at her and frowning.

"I _did_ actually hear what you said before dat lunatic tried to drown me."

With a pronounced 'woof' and some serious effort, Rogue stood up in an attempt to avoid the direction in which he was trying to turn the conversation- and promptly plopped back down when her legs gave out. Her head lolled back onto her shoulder and she silently regarded him with sorrowful, bloodshot eyes.

"Can't tell the difference between an adrenaline rush an' lo- «coff coff» love, huh?" he said, spitting out more saltwater in a derisive fashion. "Was it like dat wit' Magneto?"

Softly, she murmured, "Can't this wait until we ain't got people tryin' ta kill us? Ah don't wanna argue when Ah'm this tanked…already said enough bad things t'night."

"_Je suis en désaccord_, (I disagree)" His tone was polite, yet firm, as he sat Indian-style and stared blearily at their attackers, who were slowly getting to their feet. "You got me at an unfair advantage- y' been in my head but I don' know what's going on in yours...I'm really starting to wonder if I ever did. A drunk mind is an honest mind, and I don' know when, or if, we're ever goin' to get the chance to set things straight. I want t' hear the truth- I think I deserve _dat_ much at least."

It wasn't the earnestness in his tone or his steely expression that bothered her; no, it was the sad acceptance in his eyes that said he already expecting an answer that he didn't want to hear. That he seemed so ready to give up hurt more than any physical blow. She started rolling clumps of muck into mini mudpies before sighing deeply.

"What Erik and Ah had was...soothing, and more secure, like Ah knew he'd always have mah back and not do somethin' dumb like run off to Sinister or Apocalypse. It was nice not ta get homemade porn on DVD in the mail from his exes, too." (2)

The Cajun visibly flinched, whether from being busted about his dirty secret or being called a traitor, she didn't know. _Probably both. You really think Ah don't eventually find out about all the terrible things you try to hide? Good thing that Ah know for a fact that you never actually intend to hurt anyone with your dumbass decisions-you just do the wrong thing for the right reasons. _She squared her jaw and continued. (3)

"Ah'm sorry Ah was so callow ta you on Utopia. You're right: It don't excuse the cruel way Ah treated your feelings- you deserve better than that. Ah think all the bad blood between us was influencing mah common sense and Ah just wanted to try something different, more...mature. But my views were too different from Erik's, and ta be honest, Ah never felt any of the-" she stopped making the little projectiles and flung her hands out to gesture helplessly, at a loss for adjectives, "-Passion? Excitement? _Insanity_? Whatever the hell it is Ah_ have _with you."

Fidgeting uncomfortably, she couldn't resist adding, "It was nice not ta feel like Ah wanted to strangle him every other second, though."

Gambit lowered his head, acknowledging her explanation, but the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth spoke of genuine relief. It caught her off-guard; she had been expecting hostility. As he stood, he plucked a handful of mudballs from the pile and juggled them while his mutant ability cajoled their kinetic energy into glittering sparks. Across from them, Dancing Water was being held up by M'Zee, and looked like she attempting to summon high tide while simultaneously trying not to pass out.

"…You wanna borrow my power again?" He asked casually, eyeing the waves that were creeping up to their feet.

The normally unflappable Avenger stared at him, incredulous, before clumsily pulling herself up to wobble unsurely at his side. "_That's it_? No yelling, no nuthin'? Ya just gonna accept mah apology like _that_, after all them bad feelings?!"

"_Non_, you ain't getting off dat easy- I'll take it out on y'ass one of these days," he smirked, thoroughly enjoying her completely bewildered expression. He let the promise of sexual misconduct hang between them for a moment before confidently stating, "But f' now I know all I need ta know."

When her eyebrows furrowed in unspoken question, he nudged her good elbow with his own and winked knowingly before lobbing the kinetically charged muckballs at the Red Skull's goons.

"Present tense gave y' away, chere."

Rogue made a disgusted noise and mentally slapped herself.

_..._

_The good news is that we're officially half way through the fight scene from hell, the bad news is that I've had to rewrite pretty much the entire rest of the story. The really bad news is that it's becoming quite the struggle to finish this danged thing since my mind keeps distracting me with fun Romy ideas and all I wanna do is pick up the iPad and start drawing instead of writing! I promise I'll finish this though, come hell or high water. Or Dancing Water, as it were. Nyuk nyuk nyuk. _

_1) Uncanny Avengers #1. Good job, Avalanche- you asshat. Wonder who DW's mom is/was?_

2) _Traitor:_ _Uxm #350 for Sinny, X-Men Vol.2 #184 for Poccy. Cheater: The 'dalliance' with Lili Penrose took place Gambit vol.3 #5, but he tried to hide the surveillance DVD from Rogue in #10. _

_3) Stole that line from X-Men Evolution episode 47, 'Cajun Spice'. Loved their interaction in that show!_


	10. Chapter 10

On the other side of the rapidly rising stream, M'Zee spun around and held his groggy team mate close to protect her from the burst of mini kinetic bombs, letting them detonate against his weathered carapace while the two mutants backed away from the steadily growing rush of dark seawater. A splashing sound stopped both of them in their tracks; the ground behind them was also submerged. There was a narrow ribbon of dry grass leading towards the processing facility, and Rogue shoved her ex-boyfriend in its direction as she buried their conversation in the back of her mind. She begrudged their enemy a trifle of respect, realizing that Dancing Water was trying to herd them away from the highway and back towards the ocean. If either X-Man were to touch a big enough puddle, it would only take a few seconds to transport them to the Red Skull's stronghold, where they would quickly lose all advantages. Conversely, Rogue thought, if she could capture both of the Nazi's henchmen it might make up for her miscalculation with the Grim Reaper during the press conference. _Plus Ah'd looove to see the look on Cap's face when Ah catch the bad guys that the rest of them couldn't…!_

Briefly shaking her head to clear the egotistical thought, she was mildly irritated by the fact that the Cajun's presence gave her such a false sense of invincibility. Instead, she groused at him.

"Keep y' danged powers and memories to yourself, Gumbo. Ah definitely do NOT want ta know what's going on in your mind right now."

"Actually," Gambit quipped as they bolted through the marsh, "I was jus' thinking dat this reminds me of Boston. Only now I got Ursula the sea witch trying to kill me instead of a spiteful green ghost." (1)

"Ha! Yeah, we never really did do normal couples counseling, Ah guess," she replied, amazed at how he managed to hop and run at the same time without both boots, his lopsided gait being almost as awkward as her own inebriated gallop.

"Not unless you count Emma's psychic _conneries _(bullshit), and I am definitely not ever doin' **that **again." (2)

_Ah ain't touchin' that one with a ten foot pole, _she inwardly frowned, changing the subject. "You seriously need to lay off the Disney movies, ya nerd."

He huffed derisively between breaths and glanced back at the pair of pursuing streams, which had collided and were now rapidly rising into a miniature tsunami. It made an made an eerie rumbling sound as it ate up everything in its path. "And who are you t' be callin' _me _a nerd, lil' Miss 'Br'er rabbit nightgown'?" (3)

"That was a _gift! _From _Rachel_! Which you wouldn't even know about if ya hadn't been snoopin' around the mansion, you…you…Br'er Fox!" Rogue swatted at him, tripping onto the access road in the process.

"Yeahh…not sorry 'bout dat at all," Gambit ducked away from the slap, grinning happily at the memory that had plagued her earlier.

_Wanting to reassure himself that all was well when she had first joined the Avengers, he hid in the shadows of her bedroom's balcony and observed silently as she lounged on her stomach, sprawled enticingly across the bed in only the aforementioned yellow shirt and a rather tight pair of boyshorts. Like an overgrown kid, she was kicking her feet back and forth absentmindedly while watching 'Fried Green Tomatoes' for the thousandth time; when she softly yelled 'Towandaaa!' along with the movie, he had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter so it wouldn't give away his position. He stayed until the movie was over and she'd shut off the light. Blowing an invisible kiss in her direction, he slipped over the handrail and slunk past Stark's security cameras before leapfrogging over the high brick wall. The crippling loneliness that plagued his soul had been softened a little by the warmth of knowing that she was content with her new place in life. _

"Less mouth, more runnin', Gumbo- these guys are relentless and if we cain't get away from this water we're gonna end up as Nazi stooges!" Rogue barked, interrupting his reverie as they tore across the pavement, barely avoiding the growing wave that threatened to drown them. She was in full 'Cyclops' mode, and he sensed that it was going to be all business from here on out by the grim set of her jaw.

_Even with all the shit that's gone down in the last year, she's never been such a cynic. What the hell happened to make her so miserable? _He wondered as they ran side by side.

As they neared the administrative building, a shallow puddle bubbled ominously, just out of view. Moving at such a quick pace, they were nearly on top of the giant turtle when he sprang up from the ground with his mangled arms spread wide. Dancing Water was riding piggyback, her tentacles wrapped around M'Zee's shell, clinging to the great turtle's neck like a drunken monkey. Faced with imminent conflict, Rogue dropped and rolled under one set of swinging claws. Gambit chose the high road, springing upwards to cartwheel over the other. With inhuman speed, the New Orleans native twisted into a seamless roundhouse kick while his partner lashed out a swift punch to the back of the heavy reptile's kneecap. Not expecting a coordinated attack, Dancing Water cried out in shock as a boot heel connected with her semi-solid skull, and M'Zee's stumpy legs buckled from the Avenger's brutal hit. He toppled forward, taking his team leader with him to be swallowed by the twelve foot wall of water.

Like shot from a cannon, the two troublemakers were off again, skidding in the gravel as they rounded the corner of the structure. The wave defied the laws of physics to pull a ninety degree turn and follow them. Just as it seemed that they'd make it to the dilapidated fire escape at the rear of the building, both of the gigantic holding tanks burst open with a catastrophic "CRACK!", their frothy contents gushing forth from the shattered concrete to join the chase. Gambit sprinted past Rogue and turned around so fast that she didn't have time to counteract his movement.

"UP!" he commanded, roughly hooking her by the belt loops and using momentum to heft her body a near-vertical ten feet, imitating the X-Men's much-loved 'Fastball Special'.

Catching hold of the rungs, she gasped from the stabbing pain in her damaged arm and instinctively hunched her shoulders, shielding her head from the pounding breaker that smashed her and the rickety ladder against the brick wall.

"Remy!" Rogue choked, swiping the sodden mop of hair from her face and looking frantically downwards.

Half submerged, he was barely holding on to the rusty metal with one hand as the water swirled aggressively around his waist, trying to take him with it as it receded. A determined M'Zee rose from the depths of the whirlpool with murder in his beady eyes, slicing through the current as if it were nothing more than air.

"You leap about like a frightened toad! Do you know what turtles eat, little man?" he demanded, clicking his weathered mandible in a menacing fashion as he advanced on the escapees.

"Do _you_ know what Cajuns eat?!" Gambit shouted angrily as Rogue reached down and grabbed for his hand with her good arm. "Hey fille, you inna mood for a lil' _Caouan_?!" (4)

"Ah dunno, sugar, he looks like he'd be too chewy for-!"

A concentrated blast of water, stronger than the one that had hit Rogue earlier, nailed Gambit in the side and ripped him from her grasp. Superbly quick reflexes saved him from a broken leg but not from torn ligaments as M'Zee snapped him up in midair, his sharp beak sinking deep into the muscle of Gambit's left thigh. Screaming in agony as the mountainous thug violently shook him like a chew toy, the thief punched helplessly at his opponent's face, unable to stop himself from being spat into the waiting portal.

"NO!" Rogue bellowed, the next blast clipping her shoulder as she dove haphazardly over M'Zee and her ex-boyfriend to bodily tackle Dancing Water.

Both of the girls submerged with a loud splash and the glittering vortex dispersed in a flare of light, Gambit's body crashing into the eddy where it had just been. Without Dancing Water's control, tons of water rolled downhill to rejoin the crashing surf. The salty brine stung his blistered ribs and the wound on his leg garnished the enormous wave's crest with crimson as it tumbled and rolled him over the sand, towards the Ocean inlet. After he'd been ignominiously deposited in a divot left by the tide, he lumbered to his feet, hacking up brackish liquid and pulling the bo-staff from his remaining boot. Alarmed by the lack of any movement other than the slide of water over pebbly beach, he scanned the horizon for the henchmen and his ex-girlfriend.

The two women surfaced in the Ocean about twenty feet away, the brunette hanging on to the assassin's toga for dear life whilst they stumbled and sloshed through shallow whitecaps. Rogue was on the defensive rather than absorbing the completely opaque woman's liquid controlling ability, dodging most of her opponent's wild, uncoordinated punches and keeping her too distracted to summon another portal. It took Gambit a moment to realize that she was intentionally taking a beating: Dancing Water was as tipsy as Rogue was drunk. Stealing her powers would almost certainly render Rogue catatonic.

A large, round shadow detached from the rubble of the holding tanks, glancing towards the fighting women before locking eyes with Gambit; there was a sense of alarm in M'Zee's squinty stare that hadn't been there before. Instantaneously, the X-Man and the soldier sprang into action, one limping and the other lurching towards their respective companions, who were hissing at each other in alley cat fashion as they traded blows back and forth.

Rogue finally saw an opening and firmly seized Dancing Water by the throat. A curious thing happened then: The water witch's cloudy skin lost its sheen and turned into a dull peach color, her tentacles dissolved into a spindly pair of legs and her flowing locks melted into stringy strands of ochre shaded _human_ hair.

"What? How..?!" she shrieked in disbelief.

"Ain't so tough now, are ya?!" Rogue snarled savagely, gripping the woman by the shoulders. "Yer little Goat faced girl really comes in handy!"

Without further preamble, she headbutted Dancing Water as hard as she could; the sharp bang of foreheads colliding echoed hollowly across the shoreline. Damn near knocking herself out from the sheer force of the blow, Rogue released her grip and staggered backwards, a cloudburst of stars popping in and out of her range of vision. Her attacker collapsed in a dazed heap on the wet sand and faded back to a watery appearance. Gambit was by her side in an instant, yanking her out of the way before M'Zee could pound her into a skunk-striped afterthought. Despite her dizziness, Rogue snatched the bo-staff from the Cajun's hand and hooked her left arm around his in a smooth movement reminiscent of their earlier do-si-do swing. Although the ex-lovers frequently suffered from verbal miscommunication, they could read each other's moves flawlessly. He whipped her around much as a matador would flag a charging bull, and then ducked under the leathery monster's rebound punch to bring her into a prime position for retaliation. M'Zee missed his mark, but Rogue did not, using the momentum from Gambit's evasive maneuver to stab the staff vigorously into his ear hole as he passed by.

Roaring in pain, M'Zee went down like a literal ton of bricks...just in time to receive a handful of kinetically charged sand in the face. Billions of tiny specks ignited explosively, and suddenly the 'unstoppable force' was no longer so unstoppable. Suffering from a loss of equilibrium _and_ sight, M'Zee swung his burnt and blackened arms recklessly, hoping to connect with something, anything.

He tripped over his boss as he tried to stand, sending them both sprawling. She screeched from being stepped on by several hundred pounds of teammate and raised her hand, begging the ocean to heed her call.

"Oh no ya don't!" Rogue snapped, viciously aiming a cowboy boot at her enemy's ass while Gambit lit up his other shoe and chucked it at M'Zee.

The force of the kick sent Dancing Water tumbling right into the stream that rushed upwards to meet her. Her flailing body merged with the water and an offshoot jet flowed over M'Zee's cowering form, unfortunately just as the Cajun's unorthodox choice of projectile landed on the turtle man's shell. Fuschia light mushroomed outwards and abruptly sucked back into the hastily summoned portal; the idiot had accidentally teleported the results of the explosion as well.

"DAMN IT!" Rogue glared defiantly at the rapidly dispersing bubbles, a scrap of Dancing Water's outfit clenched in the fist at her side and the other brandishing Gambit's bo-staff. "We _had_ them!"

He looked sharply at her, surprised that she was so upset, and nearly swallowed his tongue as he took stock of the battle's aftermath. Oblivious to the shredded camisole and bra hanging in tatters from her mud slickened skin, her proud stance was backlit by the moonlight reflecting off of the ocean, reminding him of a recently stolen work of art that was currently decorating the foyer of the Guild's New Orleans headquarters. She looked just like the statue of the woman pirate Anne Bonny, her exposed breast at odds with the fierce and wild expression that promised a free knuckle sandwich to any and all comers who should underestimate her resolve.

"Well, shit. At least that charge o' yours ought ta do some damage ta their stupid base," Rogue grunted, suddenly tired as she turned to acknowledge her partner. The odd mix of appreciation, lust and amazement on his face startled her. "What..?"

"_Jesus_, chere! I was jus' kiddin' about going skinnydipping!" he grinned bawdily as he swiped his bo-staff from her and leaned on it for support, taking the weight off of his crippled leg.

"Huh?"

Rogue squinted at him, flummoxed by the random remark and intensity of his amused stare. The adrenaline rush was quickly fading; her arm ached, pulsing with a rhythm to match the throbbing in her temples, and she was starting to feel her bloody nose and many cuts and bruises.

And the cool breeze from the ocean, against her _naked_ skin.

Gasping in shock, she clapped her palms over her breasts as Gambit burst out laughing. The victorious gleam vanished from her eyes, replaced by humble chagrin as she managed a flustered smile, her posture becoming more wobbly by the second. He sidled up to her, smiling in return, and silently offered his hand.

"C'mon, _vous magnifique bête_ (you magnificent beast). Let's get outta here."

...

_*Submits new chapter and looks around, wondering where everyone went* Hello? Did y'all give up on me? _

_A good friend of mine pointed out something terrible the other day, and as a result I have been working on this story non-stop for about 8 hours now, despite the fact that I have a jillion chores that still need to be done. After listening to me vent for an hour about how pissed I was over Remender's Godawful portrayal of not just Rogue, but **everyone** in Uncanny Avengers, and how much it sucked to have a crappy Thanksgiving and wait 8 patient months for Rogue's anti-climactic and poorly written return, she said, "You know... your story has taken just as long..."_

_0.o  
_

_This thing needs to be FINISHED. _

1) _X-Men v2 #81Rogue and Gambit reunited- but will it be in Death?!_

2) _X-men v2 #172, Bizarre Love Triangle part 2: Temptation. Holy epic backfire, Batman._

_3) For you non-'Muricans, Br'er Rabbit and Br'er fox originated in folk tales from the deep south and were memorialized in Disney's 'Song of the South' cartoon in 1946. I hope no one thinks I'm racist or anything- I just always liked the clever way that Br'er Rabbit always outwitted the Fox.  
_

__4) Among Creole communities, Turtle soup is known as Caouane. In New Orleans, it is a specialty of several neighborhood and classic Creole restaurants such as Commander's Palace, Brennan's, and Galatoire's. Thanks, Wikipedia!__


	11. Chapter 11

_Oooh, wouldja look at that- a BIG update! Happy 4th of July to my American followers, and happy uhh.. weekend...to you lovely overseas fans. Caution, this chapter contains a wee bit of smut ;) (I think I can hear tx peppa and Chellerbelle yelling "finally!", lol)  
_

After an excruciating walk through the swampy marsh, the mutants emerged to find that the only remnants of the destroyed Suburban and the henchmen were broken glass, metal shards and a few oil slicked puddles glinting in the moonlight. Dancing Water had apparently collected all of the evidence prior to hunting down her incompetent teammate. Rogue's reaction was that of utter disappointment; she had been hoping to present at least one lackey to the Avengers for interrogation. Gambit laughingly reasoned that the water witch was likely trying to hide her team's shortcomings from the big boss in an attempt to cover up their incompetence.

From their vantage point in the center median, they observed stationary blue and red flashing lights in the distance as the police investigated the craters left in the roadway by the rocket propelled grenades. It was just as well, Rogue sighed (after she had slipped and fallen into the grass while trying to help lift the heavy motorcycle from the bush where it had landed), she could barely remain upright, let alone deal with civil servants at the moment. Her escort silently agreed, grateful that his Harley started on the second try and that there was no traffic at one in the morning.

The ride back to Manhattan took considerably longer than usual. Gambit had kept under the speed limit, taking less traveled roads in an attempt to ease the pain of wind shear against their open wounds. Rogue being on the verge of passing out also necessitated extra caution on his part, especially when her weight shifted and she nearly toppled from the seat. He had almost dumped the bike in surprise, but thankfully his reflexes kicked in and he elbowed her back into place before she could become intimate with the asphalt. The second time it happened, though, he whipped off his belt and used it to bind her wrists together in his lap. Tying her up any other time might have been a turn-on, yet all he could think of at the moment was the cool comfort of his apartment.

When they finally reached his building, he eased the orange Harley into its spot in the underground parking garage, careful not to tip his cargo. Under the harsh fluorescent lighting he briefly assessed the paint damage and was pleased to see only minor scuffing from where it had slid in the sand. His ribs, on the other hand, stung like sunburn in a hot shower, especially the tender spot where Rogue's forearm had rubbed against them. The laceration on his leg had finished painting a Picasso on what was left of his jeans and he grimaced at the thought of trying to separate fabric from the congealed scabbing. As he unhooked his ex-girlfriend's makeshift tether, he noted with dismay that her knuckles were even more bruised and bloody than his own. When he called her name over his shoulder, she mumbled something incoherently into his spine and struggled to sit up straight enough for him to dismount.

Once he was off the motorcycle, he asked, "Excusez-moi?"

Staring bleakly down at her upturned palms, Rogue repeated herself more clearly. "Sorry."

"For what?"

"Everythin'. Fuh messin' up ya leather," she mumbled, gesturing at the newly reddened sleeve of the jacket he had insisted that she wear, "Fer bein' a smartmouth an' a jackass. Fer gettin' ya involved in mah stupid fights. Fuh ruinin' your evenin'."

He leaned heavily on the seat for a minute, letting her apology sink in and releasing the resentment he'd felt over her suicidal attempt at taking out Dancing Water. Then he tenderly pulled aside the curtain of tangled, dirty white hair that obscured her face, his fingers sliding down her cheek to cup her bruised jaw in the palm of his hand. Her eyes still refused to meet his.

In a low tone, Gambit said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you, too. I knew exactly what kinda night I was getting into the second I said I'd come pick you up, even though I was hopin' dat it would end better for once. This is what friends are for though, darlin'. To watch each other's backs and be there when y' need 'em."

"_Friends_ treat each other bettah than how Ah treat you," she said, enunciating the endearment morosely as she finally raised her eyes to his.

Clarity was returning slowly after the dizzying blur of the ride back, and she took in the puffiness of his split lip and the mud smudged across his angular cheek bones with a frown. His tee shirt was practically cut into ribbons; raw, reddened skin peeped through the tattered fabric. The left leg of his pants was darkened with blood, the denim torn from front to back thanks to M'Zee's beak. Saddened by his sorry state, his consoling words made her feel even worse about the way she had snapped at him after the fiasco in the restaurant.

Looking around at crowded parking garage, she murmured, "Thought Ah asked ya ta drop me off at home?"

"Some fine salaud (bastard) I'd look like, dumping a half drowned and bleeding river rat on the _Avengers'_ doorstep! Y' look like you lost a mud wrestlin' contest to the Hulk," he retorted derisively. "They'd ask too many questions and I'd be strung up in an interrogation room before y' could say 'probable cause'. And dat's assuming Logan don't gut me first."

To emphasize his point, he haughtily eyed her up and down. Ruined jeans hanging from her shapely legs, hair a matted mess, she looked like she could fit right in with the homeless beggars in the alley across the street. His scrutiny paused at the six inch window of pale collarbones and crusted-over cleavage exposed by the partially zipped jacket, and, as he expected, she crossed her arms defensively. Although she winced, her lips thinned to a defiant line.

It was a miracle that they hadn't been pulled over for public indecency.

"Besides," he continued, "Dat place seems more like a prison t' me. Homes are supposed to be warm and welcoming."

"Well, ya right 'bout that," she conceded softly; the rejection in her tone spoke volumes.

Sighing, Rogue started to lean forward towards the handlebars and Gambit worried that she was going to black out for good, his hands inadvertently jerking up to catch her. Instead, she rose as if in slow motion, painfully dragging her leg across the bike's seat. She didn't fight his steadying grip on her stomach, but nausea was creeping in and with it was an urge to vomit in a corner of the cement stall. She swallowed repeatedly in an attempt to keep her dinner down where it belonged. When she tried to stand up, her vision swam as the gray walls seemed to bow outwards.

"AUGH," she groaned, clutching her forehead with her right hand while her left arm dangled limply.

"You took some pretty hard hits- you gon' live?"

"Yeah…" she drew in a deep breath to calm her unhappy gut and tried to laugh, but it came out as a choking sound. "That loser hit me so hard Ah saw _your _life flash in front of my eyes."

"Maybe she knock some sense into _you_, hein?" He teased half-heartedly as he moved his palm to her undamaged shoulder and gently urged her forward.

"Doubt it. Ah hope Ah knocked some sense inta her, though. Bet those fools think twice before pickin' on a pair o' hillbillies from now on."

"Pfftt. We gave up the right to call ourselves dat when we moved to the Big Apple. At least you don't dance like a city girl…yet. I think you broke some of my toes with them clodhoppers of yours, though."

"Quit tryin' to make me laugh or else ya gonna be wearing _Eu de Pukey_," she gagged in warning as they neared the elevator.

They had been half carrying, half pushing each other up the faded yellow steel steps as they talked; Rogue had to stop every so many feet to gulp down bile and steady herself against the railing. Thankfully there were no other tenants active at such an early hour or else they might have been alarmed by the appearance of the bloody and filthy pair of best friends.

"Not really into the whole Emeta'philia scene, but I'll try jus' about anything once," Gambit remarked casually. (1)

Her upper lip curled in disgust as they waited for their ride to return to the lowest floor. The beat-up thief was concentrating on the flickering 'up' arrow, heedless of her revulsion at his lewd statement. When the metallic ding announced the elevator's arrival, he rolled an amused eye back in her direction and grinned at the greenish tinge on her cheeks.

"You're still as gullible as ever. I'm messing wit' you, fille." He playfully shoved her into the cabin; she promptly collapsed in the corner with her face mashed up against the stainless steel wall.

Her smile was as cold as the metal that chilled her cheek. "Ya think ya are, but Ah been in that black hole you call a brain, sweetheart. Some a' the things you done should be illegal."

"Most of them are," he smirked unapologetically, leaning against the handrail.

Perhaps it was a tad cruel to enjoy pushing her buttons when she obviously couldn't defend herself, but riling her up was his favorite pastime, second only to stealing. He started singing 'Love in an Elevator', just for good measure.

"Y'know what? Ah think Ah'm gonna make your sick fantasies come true today. C'mere!"

The elevator wasn't the only thing that was rising rapidly. Belching in a rather unladylike fashion, she staggered up from the floor and snatched at his tattered sleeve, but he stepped out of reach.

"Touch me an' I'm going to flip you over my knee and spank the rude outta you," he promised, eyes sparkling.

"You and what army?!"

As she tried to straighten her back and look more menacing, the elevator lurched to a stop at exactly the wrong moment. Her knees caved in. Gambit caught and hefted the disoriented brawler up into his arms with a grunt, cradling her tightly against his chest.

"Don't you _dare _throw up on me. I'll drop y' like a bad habit you are, y' lush."

"_AH'M_ the bad habit!?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and indignant as she struggled against being carried around like a helpless infant.

Ignoring the fire in his side and stabbing reminder of unfinished business from his leg, he insisted on the unorthodox transportation for the short walk to his front door and spoke a few random words in French, seemingly to no one in particular. Another neat gizmo of Fence's, his apartment had the latest and greatest security on the black market. The alarm beeped in recognition and the door popped open silently, acknowledging that he had his hands full. He nudged it the rest of the way with his mud covered sock. The cats greeted him ecstatically at first, thinking he had brought them some sort of new toy. Once they smelled the mix of sweat, dirt and hemoglobin, however, they backed off quickly, confused by the disturbing scents.

"Aww, look how big they're gettin'!" Rogue cooed, her agitation with the annoying Cajun momentarily forgotten.

"Yeah, big and hungry. Mind dat they don't try to eat you while I get the med kit."

Gambit eased her back onto her feet on the kitchen floor near the sink, presumably so she could throw up, but her nausea was down to a more manageable state now that she was out of the elevator. Two of the kittens chased him into the bathroom, but the grey one stayed put. Its tail tip twitched as it stared at her.

"Oliver, right?" She whispered, leaning down to hold out her right hand in offer of friendship, gripping a drawer handle with her left to keep from falling over. "Ah always liked that name for a little boy." (2)

Sniffing her fingers, the cat studied her warily with tense amber eyes. When Rogue made no move to mess up his fur like his human's other friends, he decided that this female was okay in his book. Small tail standing up like a welcoming flag, he rubbed his little cheek against her finger and then skittered off to sit under an expensive-looking mahogany desk, turning to look at her expectantly. For some inexplicable reason, she followed, noting the tasteful paintings of Hugh Boynton and Louis Armstrong adorning the living room walls. Although the average person might not know it when taking in Gambit's scruffy face and often questionable manners, the man had good taste in interior decorating and was generally neat and organized.

"Now what, buddy- you wanna play? Is this where your toys are?" Rogue felt silly talking to the furry beast, who leaned his head to one side and meowed in answer. She had always preferred dogs, but who could turn down such an adorable kitten?

A glance at the jumbled mess atop the table made her whistle in disbelief. There was a stack of ungraded papers that had to be at least a foot tall, mixed throughout with post it notes, newspapers and… _is that some sort of treasure map_? Gingerly digging through the pile, she found a jingle ball and shook it, prompting Oliver to appear at her feet. He chased it eagerly when she tossed it across the living room and she couldn't help chuckling at his joyous abandon. Unfortunately, the jerking motion of her arm triggered a warning rumble from her stomach, causing her to clutch her mouth as she doubled over onto the desk, elbows splayed out to either side.

The urge passed more quickly this time, thankfully. When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find her nose pressed against a familiar old photograph. It was from one of the first dates that she and Gambit had undertaken, when they had gone out to a local carnival in nearby Bayville and he'd won her a giant stuffed bear for her collection. There were a dozen such framed memories scattered amongst the debris, but all had been flipped upside down and partially covered over. Picking it up, she studied the happy, contented look of her younger self. It was an expression that the sour face in the mirror every morning hadn't seen in a very, VERY long time. The thief's face was more boyish even though it wore his trademark smirk, but a practiced eye could tell that there something else in the way that he had carefully held her to him; a boastful pride that he was trusted enough to touch the untouchable girl. A sharp pang of regret made her chest constrict.

"I think dat was only one of a handful of times we went on an actual date an' didn't almost get killed," the sneaky Cajun commented from beside her elbow, causing her to jump and drop the photo.

He had already cut off the remainder of his shirt and pants and partly washed off the worst of the dried blood, although the cut on his leg had already begun to bleed anew. Instinctively noting that he was wearing only a pair of boxers, her alcohol fuzzed brain hastily flipped from a fear of triggering her power, to arousal, to chastising herself, before settling on concern.

Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, she replied, "We're a magnet for disaster. Ah shoulda figured that one out on the first date."

"Wanna see something really disastrous?" he said, a statement more than a question.

Unlocking a hidden drawer, he rummaged around for a moment and pulled out a white envelope. He handed it to her, the expression in his darkened eyes indecipherable. They were a dull oxblood color in the dim light from the kitchen.

Inside were half a dozen faded old Polaroids of Rogue as a child; in one she was parked on Mystique's lap, grinning hugely as she ripped into a Christmas present while Irene smiled serenely in the background. Another showed a gangly teenager jumping off of a river bank into muddy water, her close cropped hair a mere streak of brown and white motion. The rest were all happy memories of a life from so long ago that it didn't even feel like it was hers. Her jaw dropped open.

"The real tragedy is how cute y' used to be when you was a chile. What the hell happened?" Gambit teased, entranced by the variety of emotions that danced across her face.

She rounded on him, incredulous, nearly toppling over in the process. Steadying her shaky legs with a hand on the old desk, she pointed accusingly at him and exclaimed, "Why would ya steal these, Remy?! If Raven doesn't kill ya, Ah might! "

His cracked lips puckered and his eyebrows drew together in offense. "I didn' steal them! They showed up here one day in dat envelope. How am I supposed t' know what kinda crazy scheme your maman cooked up this time? Dat woman got more issues than a magazine rack in Times Square!"

Rogue was baffled, too sore and too tired to contemplate Mystique's ulterior motives for involving the notorious thief in such a personal aspect of her life. When he had told her two months ago that her foster mother, of all people, had left a box of kittens on his table, she had thought he was pulling her leg. Mystique hadn't shown any kind of motherly instinct since long before Destiny had died. That the infamous terrorist had not only saved three defenseless babies, but left them with Gambit, made her wonder if the mother that she'd disowned really thought he was that much of a pushover…or if there was a deeper underlying message meant for her. She dropped the pictures back onto the pile of paper and rubbed her temples in an effort to soothe the sudden migraine that threatened to blow her forehead off. (3)

_No…it couldn't be. There's no way Raven wants grandchildren. _She almost laughed out loud at the thought of the perpetually angry schemer changing diapers and reading bedtime stories. _There's no way in hell Ah would let her NEAR any children, mine or anyone else's! 'Specially after that whole mess with Hope!_

Aggravation growing steadily, she voiced her speculation out loud after a heavy sigh. "She doesn't do anything unless it somehow benefits her. Just like yer old man. Sometimes Ah think they'd make the perfect couple, if she wasn't so preoccupied with trying to control mah damned love life. "

The thief shuddered theatrically. "Ugh, God no. My father would hire the Assassins after an hour alone wit' Raven. Maybe she's going through a midlife crisis or something. Or maybe it's her wacky way of saying dat she finally approves of me, even if she _is _too late. Joke's on her anyway: You'd have to actually remember what love _is_ before y' could have a love life."

"Just because mah definition of love is different than yours doesn't mean Ah don't-" she cut herself off before she could blurt out _…love you, you idiot._ Unable to think of a reprisal that wasn't sarcastic, her teeth made an audible click as she clamped her mouth shut, refusing to rise to his baiting.

Gambit had been studying her with a quizzical expression that bordered on smugness. When she didn't finish her sentence, he shook his head from side to side, vexed by her stubbornness. "C'mon into the bathroom b'fore you bleed all over my floor."

* * *

In the bathroom was a heavy kit that Stark Industries produced for 'super medical emergencies'. It was something that had started out as a joke amongst the super powered crowd ages ago, but quickly turned into a necessity given the secretive nature of the 'business'. Over the years, the X-Men had contributed their share of cures into the mix, along with the Fantastic Four, S.H.I.E.L.D, and countless other organizations. One did not just drag oneself into a hospital and casually explain a brood infestation, or a broken jaw caused by tangling with an underground race of mole creatures… not without raising a lot of unanswerable questions.

Pulling the ruined jacket away from the shredded flesh of her left arm had hurt like the dickens. Yet the pain couldn't compare to the heated embarrassment of having to perch atop the toilet seat between Gambit's knees, naked but for a thin white towel (that he'd probably stolen from a hotel), while he gently scrubbed the blood and dirt from her wound. Being in such close proximity to him had sobered her far more quickly than any home remedy. Rogue didn't make a sound as he pulled the rough edges of the abrasion together with a pair of tweezers, although every time he trailed his fingers down her bare shoulder, her concentration derailed. It was becoming increasingly difficult to get it back on track. Determined to corral her wandering thoughts, she tried to focus solely on stitching the gash on his leg while he applied a strong-smelling salve to her cuts.

X-Men rarely had permanent scars from minor damage thanks to this peculiar cream from Thor's home realm of Asgard, which acted like a cast and antibiotic while healing at the same time. It was flexible and bonded within minutes, making it considerably more pleasant to wash away the inevitable blood, guts, alien slime, dirt and/or any other combination of nastiness that came with battle. Major damage, however, was a different story. There were claw marks on Gambit's arm from Laura, numerous thin white marks from assorted capers involving weapons, and a disturbing, jagged line across his lower back from Apocalypse's soul-warping machine. The Mississippi Marauder had lots of battle scars of her own. Hell, the bullet wound on her shoulder from her previous run-in with Skull's henchmen still hadn't completely healed. (4)

Gambit, on the other hand, was enjoying the situation immensely. Pain between them was nothing new; they had done this dozens of times. More often than not it had ended up being a kinky form of foreplay. Judging by the rosy flush that started at Rogue's forehead and vanished where the towel was wrapped tightly around her chest, she was also remembering the more intimate details of their bandaging sessions. This time there were no flirty remarks though, and the look of fierce consternation in her eye deterred him from making any glib comments. He finished salvaging her arm before she could fix the wide gash on his thigh, and leaned back to languidly rub a handful of burn ointment onto his ribcage. Rogue tied the medical thread in a knot and snipped off the remainder, then slopped some of the salve over the neat line of stitches, smiling with satisfaction at a job well done. When she looked up at him to brag, however, her full lips shaped into a surprised 'O'.

Mesmerized by the deft motion of nimble fingers sliding across corded ridges of muscle, she openly gawked as Gambit artfully massaged his ribs from top to bottom, going so far down that his hand slipped beneath the elastic hem of his boxers. Although it was a simple enough act, he made it seem perverse, taking advantage of her voyeurism fetish. Several long seconds passed before she realized that he was messing with her, at which point she instantly diverted her stare down at the floor between them. He noted with amusement that her hand was still resting on his knee, though, and the heat on her cheeks was nearing fire-like status.

"Perv," he teased, grinning shamelessly.

"Rem.." she started hesitantly, studying the pale blue ceramic tiles like they were the most interesting work of art she'd ever seen.

"Hmm?"

He didn't stop slathering on the cream, even though he had clearly had enough coating to make himself into a mutant slip and slide.

"Did you...uhm...e-ever consider..." In trying to voice her spontaneous thought, she found that she was too flustered to mention such a crass whim out loud...contrary to the raunchy entreaty from her traitorous hormones. "Aww hell. _N__ever mind_."

Curiosity piqued by her uncharacteristic shyness, Gambit leaned closer and jokingly wiped a dab of the burn cream across her dirty cheek with his pointer finger. "Your face is about t' go up in flames, bele (sweetheart). What's up?" (5)

The warmth in his tone and kindly look of amused interest on his face bolstered her resolve.

"Did you ever...uhm...consider us…bein' friends with benefits….?"

The Cajun tensed at the unexpected divulgence of lust, his good humor grinding to a screeching halt. Though she often complained about the uncontrollable reactions that he triggered, the reality was that she could trip him up just as effortlessly. As one of his favorite historical quotes stated, _You can ensure the safety of your defense if you hold positions that cannot be attacked._ (6)

Rogue had always, _always, _found his amorous mannerisms too facetious and lewd to respond to with anything other than indignant anger. So flirting had, ironically, become a relatively safe indulgence of his deeper feelings towards her. He'd never in a million years thought that she'd be desperate enough to fall for his 'insincere' pandering.

"Well, I uhhh- um. What?" He said stupidly, thinking that this evening was certainly becoming a record breaker for first time experiences as he desperately tried to backpedal onto safer conversational ground. "Where did dat come from?"

For a moment, blatant disbelief showed in the way her forehead crinkled in a scowl, and then her expression smoothed out again. _Asking_ for sex was a totally foreign concept to her; when they'd officially begun a physical relationship after so many years of not being able to indulge even the simplest of base urges, a sultry look or a feather-light touch in the right place was all it took for him to capitulate without a moment's hesitation.

"It's…It's kinda dumb, really…Alex tried to get me to go spy on Erik. He didn't exactly come right out and say it, but he pretty much suggested Ah get laid because Ah'm '_being _a _miserable jerk and I need an attitude adjustment_'," she said the last part of the sentence in a perfect imitation of Havok's stern leadership voice.

Laughing nervously, her fingertips absentmindedly transcribed her bashfulness into patterns in the sparse, fawn colored hair on top of Gambit's thigh, raising goosebumps all the way to his ears. "Ah told him he was an idiot, but…well… Ah hadn't _actually_ considered it as a way ta blow off steam..."

Okay, THAT should have been ice water for his libido, but the blood swarming to Gambit's groin paid no heed to his mind- especially after the endearing, oddly vulnerable way that she looked up at him with those bright emerald eyes. Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked away as though he were considering her proposition and hunched forward so that he could slyly cross his wrists over the middle of his boxers. When he turned back, a hangdog expression of guilt in his troubled gaze, he lifted her hand from his leg and kissed her knuckles before firmly setting it back on her own knee.

"I…look, I been givin' you mixed signals, Anna. You always tellin' me how much you hate my teasing, but I don' think there's a woman alive who don' secretly love it when I play around wit' them. And you need dat."

She chewed on her lower lip and her gaze lowered slightly at the offense.

Gambit blew out an exasperated breath from trying to form a coherent sentence, abashed at how much he sounded like a bumbling teenager. "You need t' feel appreciated, I mean."

Tilting her head like a confused puppy, Rogue was having a hard time believing her ears. _Oh Gawd, does he have a girlfriend and didn't tell me? No...Ah woulda seen it in his memories._

"Ah think maybe Ah might actually have a concussion… is Don Juan LeBeau passing on _sex_?"

"Well, you-y' know, m-my power is being unpredictable…"

_Oh my God, I jus' stuttered. I actually __**stuttered**__. _He mentally kicked himself.

"Ah could suck some offa ya, divert it from blastin' a hole in anythin'."

He glanced down, unconsciously licking his lips at the image that popped up to match her suggestion, and then pulled his clenched fists closer to his lap as he shifted uncomfortably on the bathtub's ledge. (7)

"With dat temper of yours? Ha, you'd blow me ta kingdom come."

As hilarious as his reaction to her sleazy suggestion was, Rogue was starting to feel apprehensive about his inability to maintain eye contact. Her eyebrows raised pointedly at his choice of words, wholly skeptical of his excuse.

"_Merde. _Dat came out wrong," he groaned, slapping his forehead. The other hand stayed planted over bulge that had sprung up along his inner thigh.

"Ah think the only way it could come out wrong is if'n ya got me in the eye by accident," she grinned cheekily, noting the involuntary twitch of a smile beneath his fingers.

His demeanor abruptly turned serious when her hand ceased its wandering, stopping suggestively on his inner thigh.

"It's just…it ain't the wisest idea to fool around. Getting physical wit' you was already explosive enough without actually blowing things up. It's not dat it wouldn't be fun, but…"

"Buuut…?" Rogue coaxed encouragingly, leaning towards him. All she wanted was to feel the closeness they'd had, if only for a short while; to feel needed again instead of being an unwanted nuisance.

Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, it was becoming increasingly difficult for Gambit to believe in his conviction when there were such powerful waves of desire rolling off of her. For a few years after that fateful first date, he'd wondered if this hardass southern belle-wannabe even knew how to be intimate without consulting memories that she'd stolen from other people. When they had lost their powers and tried to settle down, it had taken weeks for her to learn how to tolerate his touch without breaking into a giggling fit. She had been so infuriatingly ticklish and naïve that he had been speechless the first time she had taken the initiative.

From then on, though, the tiger was out of the cage: There was no end to her sexual inquisitiveness. She figured out exactly what she wanted try and went after it without hesitation, inspiring him to levels of passion unlike anything he'd ever experienced…until her uncontrollable powers returned. In many ways, dealing with not being able to touch had been harder after that, and it had hurt him deeply when she hadn't even given him a second chance after learning how to manage her leeching ability. There was no way in hell he was going to lower himself to being a meaningless tryst while she looked for love elsewhere.

This current turn-around, however, threatened to completely disarm him. He leaned back, away from those pouty, tempting lips, and gritted out a saccharine smile as he declared war on this beautiful creature who could undo his defenses with so little effort.

"But nothin'. It's too dangerous, fille."

Her expression sunk into a dejected frown at the casual way he'd dismissed her suggestion. Although she sensed that he was omitting the truth about why he didn't want to be intimate, it had taken a considerable amount of humility for her to even ask in the first place. The burn of rejection singed her already frayed nerves, making her feel like a complete idiot for going against her common sense. She stood abruptly, her jaw and fists clenched, shoulders rigid.

"Ya know what, forget it- It was dumb idea. Ah'm sure there are plenty of other women out there that are more of a turn on for ya than a bitchy ex-girlfriend with a ton of baggage."

Rogue turned to leave the small bathroom, anxious to put distance between herself and the urge for comforting familiarity that had been brought on by the intoxicating pull of his presence. Angrily, she thought, _Just like old times. We fix each other's cuts and bruises but we can't fix what we had, and one of us ends up sleepin' on the friggin' couch._

"Hey!" he exclaimed, reaching out to grab her wrist before she could escape. "_Whoa whoa whoaa_!"

In the span of a heartbeat, he shot up from the tub's edge and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Rogue squeaked in surprise, instinctively slapping both palms down on his broad shoulders to push him away; Gambit was so sneaky and subtle that it was easy to forget just how powerful he could be. With a wild, desperate tinge to his ruby hued gaze, he pinned her to the sink, breathing shallowly as his hips pressed roughly into hers.

She stilled instantly and fixed him with a look of sorely overtaxed resentment. It was plainly obvious through the towel that hewas already fully aroused.

"Don't." He glowered heatedly in reply to her angry expression, his deep, raw tone equal parts threat and promise._ "_Don't you _ever_ doubt what y' do to me, woman."

"If this is your idea teasing me until Ah feel 'appreciated', you're failin' horribly." Rogue gritted her teeth, fed up with his head games, and gripped the edge of the porcelain to lean away from him. Her head bumped into the medicine cabinet's mirror.

Regrettably, the awkward arching of her back only pushed her full breasts to greater prominence, causing him to glance longingly down at them instead of heeding her warning. She squeezed his outer thighs hard between her knees and summoned just enough of her mutant ability to send an admonishing buzz across his exposed skin. It worked; Gambit immediately released his hold and took a step back, letting her slide down from the sink. Despite the fact that he would never force a woman into something she didn't want, her defensive reaction didn't completely quell his compulsive urge to yank her towel off and rediscover a level of ecstasy that would either level half a city block or reduce them to quivering blobs of jelly. Or both. Both was okay.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, he took a few deep breaths and forced his body to relax until his composure returned. "Yes, I _have _considered us bein' f*** buddies."

Rogue put a hand on her hip; her attitude said he was on thin ice.

"_BUT, _I can't…I _won't_ think of you like you're some kinda fling after all we been through," he sighed, feeling like an ass for showing his hand by losing control of his self-restraint.

"Boy, ya sure have a funny way of showing it! Your mouth says one thing while the rest of ya-" she waggled her fingers in the direction of his underwear, the heated blush returning to her round cheeks from the agitation of having this conversation while there was a raging hard-on pointed eagerly at her midsection, "says another. Ah've _never_ said that Ah didn't treasure what we had, and Ah don't see how havin' sex woulda been anythin' other than acknowledging it."

He quickly crammed the offending member between his legs, cringing at the pain as he crossed his knees. Running a hand through his sweaty chestnut hair, he said softly, "I don' wanna be a just a meaningless stress release to you."

"What you _are_ is a contradictory pain in mah butt. _You're_ the one who said 'Don't think about forever, just try to decide where you want to be right now'!" she snipped at him, hugging her breasts protectively to conceal their traitorous response to his shameless actions. (8)

"I also said dat when it comes to _us_, it's all or nothing," Gambit retorted coolly, leaning against the wall-mounted towel rack and mirroring her body language by folding his own arms over his chest. "You're too important to me t' be a one night stand."

His words cut through her like a cold knife, a brutal reminder of the heartache she'd felt when they had broken up. Every transgression, every fight, every betrayal deepened the rift between them. As much as she wanted to believe he was capable of becoming something greater than an untrustworthy scoundrel, his recent global crime spree and complete lack of responsibility to the school only proved that he was never going to change.

"Ah wish Ah could believe you, truly Ah do…but for a man who proclaims his eternal devotion, ya sure are a hypocrite when it comes ta being faithful. Never _once _did Ah actively pursue another guy when we were on the outs, until this last time." She raised a finger in admonition when he opened his mouth to object, wagging it dismissively in his face like an impertinent miscreant from a tabloid talk show. "Joseph and Augustus came after _me, _and Ah turned 'em both down because Ah didn't want ta be with anybody except Remy LeBeau, even though he kept makin' terrible judgment calls. You, on the other hand, preach ta me about what true love is _supposed _ta feel like, but you were awful quick ta run off and look for someone new to take the edge off ya loneliness. How am Ah supposed ta believe that ya want me for _me_ when you'll settle for any ol' gal who makes ya feel important for awhile?!"

"Ha! You _definitely_ do not make me feel important! You always puttin' me on the back burner, making excuses why you jus' wanna be friends! I can't believe you expect me to wait for years for you ta make up your mind, hanging on to your every word and following you around like a lovesick schoolboy. And what's my prize for putting up wit' your indecision? I get to be a booty call?! Like we never had anythin' _special_?!"

His voice cracked on the last word, betrayal leeching through his sarcastic tone. Rogue stood there in shock as he angrily turned his face away from her, but she had already seen the glassiness in his eyes that precluded tears.

"It's because we had somethin' special that Ah turned ta you instead of anyone else, you dummy," she said in a small, hushed voice, unconsciously concentrating on a speck of mud that decorated the furiously twitching vein in his throat.

"Why does lil' Miss Ah-Don't-Need-Anybody even want to turn to anyone at all?" Gambit demanded, his head suddenly swinging around. He scrutinized her like a detective interrogating a suspect under a hot lamp. "What's got you so upset dat you gotta play the 'one night stand' card jus' to deal with it?"

* * *

_Sooo...does everyone still feel like I'm writing them in character? I need some outside opinions here, please! Next chapter's already done, I just have to go over it one more time before I post it. _

1) _I highly doubt Squidbiscuit reads my stuff, but I have to_ _thank her for the inspiration for this particular part._

_2) Tee hee hee! Too bad one of the kittens wasn't female- it would've been FANTASTIC if Remy had named it 'Rebecca'. Yes, I'm aware that her son's name is spelled 'Olivier'. Close enough!  
_

_3) AXM #62. Say what you want, but I remain convinced that Mystique, much like Gambit, just wanted to get back into Rogue's good graces after the whole Foxx mess. I think she changed her mind about Gambit after the Hope incident, once she realized that, even though he doesn't meet her high standards, no one is more dedicated to her daughter than he is. Magneto may love her as well, but mutant rights will always be his #1 concern. _

_4) There's GOTTA be something like this medical kit in the MU. How else does one explain the lack of damage two days after a battle?! Oh, and before anyone brings up '**that**' particular sword-induced scar, it factors into a later chapter. Don't worry, I'm trying to cover all angles here ;)_

_5) Although writers always say 'belle', according to LSU's Cajun French dictionary, it's actually 'Bele'. Learn something new every day, huh?_

_6) The Art of War, Sun Tzu_

_7) You remember that scene in Wolverine: Origin when Logan calls Gambit by his real name, and the Cajun does that guilty little lip-lick thing before acknowledging him? Yeah, that. HAWT. _

_8) X-Men Legacy #259_


	12. Chapter 12

_I thought everyone might like some midweek amusment :) Smut-o-meter level rose a little bit more with this chapter. You were warned!_

Momentarily startled by Gambit's insight, she cursed his empathic ability; he'd felt her surge of despair and hopelessness. She glared at him for a few long seconds before squeezing her eyes closed and rubbing her face in irritation. The action smeared what was left of her eyeliner across her cheekbones, creating a raccoon-like mask. Unlike the Cajun, being dishonest was incredibly difficult for her unless she was relying on a borrowed psyche. Pity, because right now she could really use a whopper to distract him from the truth.

Brow furrowed in consternation from trying to figure out what she was hiding from him, he pushed away from the wall and lowered his chin so that he could communicate his concern eye to eye. When she looked down, he sensed her reticence and instantly knew that she was considering lying. The muscles in his biceps tensed in affront as he tightened his grip on his elbows.

"Spill it." He demanded crossly.

"…Wanda." Rogue said the name of her nemesis flatly, her jaw jutting stubbornly because she couldn't make herself to lie to him.

"Maximoff?"

"How many other Wandas do you know?" the bedraggled brunette answered testily, looking up from under her lowered eyebrows with so much hatred that it spooked him.

"For the sake of any future children, I ain't gon' answer that," he joked, comically placing his hands over his crotch to protect his family jewels as if he expected a kick to the nether regions. Thank goodness the change in subject had finally killed his arousal. "What about her?"

"Skull got to her and near brainwashed her into trying another decimation spell. She's flaky and half off her rocker, and Ah'll be damned if Ah'm gonna let us get wiped out again." (1)

"Oh…_hell_," Gambit's frown deepened, causing lines to appear in his cheeks. The Decimation brought on by the Scarlet Witch had nearly wiped out all of mutantkind and indirectly caused the Phoenix force to return to Earth in order to repopulate the massively diminished race. Despite its role as a cosmic balance keeper, the Firebird had only made things exponentially worse. "She seemed all right at the conference wit' you this morning, though. And you saved her from dat lunatic reaper!"

"Ah shouldn't have. It was a reflex." Rogue's shoulders drooped a little and the briefest glimpse of genuine regret flickered across her expression before she turned away from him.

Had he not been studying her so intensely, it would have passed right under his radar. Having seen it, however, a cold chill of apprehension danced the Macarena across his spine.

"Oh _mon Dieu, _you wouldn't kill her, Rogue. You can't know for _sure_ dat she'd actually do it again..!" he pleaded, grabbing her good elbow and forcing her to face him. He felt the warning shock through his fingers again, yet did not let go. "You're **not** a murderer!"

"Ah don't _want _ta be the one ta pull an 'Old Yeller', but it's getting harder and harder to overlook that much crazy," she said, her expression blank and her normally robust tone alarmingly devoid of emotion as she yanked her arm free from his grip. "The only question left is: Do Ah take the trash out early or wait until the last minute?"

He realized now that her occupational jest in the bar hadn't been about their line of 'work'. But before he could counter her view, she pressed her pointer finger to his lips to silence him.

"It was rhetorical, jackass. Ah ain't gonna stand here and listen to a lecture on what's right and what's wrong from _you_ of all people. God knows Ah get plenty enough from mah team. It's a sore subject and Ah'm done talkin' about it. Sorry Ah offended your delicate sensibilities with mah _thoughtless_ desire to feel the passion we used ta have, it won't happen again."

With that, she spun on one heel, her tangled auburn locks whipping around her shoulders from the sharp motion, and marched out of the bathroom, hugging her arms tightly about her ribs.

* * *

For a while he stood there feeling like a fool, staring gloomily at the spot where she'd been standing. How did she do it? How the hell did she always manage to make him feel like an ignorant, selfish child? The cost of confessing his feelings was too great; the resentment and despair emanating from her had grown exponentially during her parting words. All because he had been being hard-headed and trying to pick a fight with the expectation of some sort of relationship breakthrough. Instead, he now had another piece to the puzzle of her depressed state of mind, and she had a new reason to hate him.

After a quick but thorough shower, he left the bathroom without even drying off and padded soundlessly to the olive colored couch, where Rogue was sprawled out in the furthest corner. The towel had ridden up to the tops of her thighs, revealing an enticing amount of muscled and beautifully proportioned legs, one of which still bore the bite shaped bruise from his teeth. She was half asleep, idly scratching behind Lucifer's ears as the orange devil snoozed on her lap. Even though Gambit deliberately paused by the armrest in the hope that she'd let him apologize for pushing her too far, she refused to acknowledge his presence and turned to stare at the blank television screen instead. Disgruntled, he made his way to the bedroom closet. After rummaging through his light-travel suitcase, he returned to the living room and dropped a set of blue striped flannel pajamas by her feet along with an extra washcloth and a fresh, fluffy towel.

"You ain't sleepin' out here, I'm not so rude as to deny you the bed. But you ain't gon' make my sheets stink like ocean brine, you hear?" he demanded as he leaned hard on the top of backrest to scowl down at her, droplets of water falling from his soaking wet hair onto her calves.

"The couch is fine for a _guest_," she said icily, carefully collecting the sleeping feline and relocating him to the warm spot that she vacated. There were dark pockets under her downcast eyes as she perched on the edge of the seat and scooped up the proffered clothing. "Ah don't even wanna know what's soaked inta your mattress."

Rogue didn't need to know that he hadn't had sex with any women in this apartment (yet) and the bed was practically new; Since she insisted on seeing the worst in him at all times, he was going to play the part.

"And you think dat the couch is better?" He lifted the cushion nearest to him, exposing the blackened hole and scorch mark, and smirked meanly as comprehension dawned in her eyes. She shot to her feet faster than if she'd sat on a hornet's nest.

"Yeah. Dat's what y' ass would look like if we fooled around. I don' even wanna _think_ what an explodin' condom would do to you. Now you take the bed willingly or I'll hog tie ya and put you there m'self- I still got the straps."

"As if."

Rogue voiced her resentment with a derisive snort, although her cheeks dimpled in memory of the last time that she'd seen the heavy-duty restraints and fleece lined cuffs. They had taken a romantic weekend trip to a bed and breakfast in northern California and she'd teased him almost to his breaking point…then left him tied to the antique bed's sturdy posts while she went out to get dinner, the sound of his unamused profanity echoing in her ears.

"Ah seem ta recollect that some_body_ had a really hard time getting' outta mah slipknots." The humorous response was her way of saying that she wasn't going to hold a grudge over their hurtful conversation.

Only too happy to forgive and forget, Gambit playfully clenched his fingers, claw-like, and held them out like a wrestler preparing to grapple. When he hunched his shoulders for extra effect and feigned a quick step towards her, she balled her fists around the pajamas and involuntarily stepped back from his threatening stance.

Resigned, she groaned, "Fiiiiiine. Ah'm too tired to fight with you anyway."

Although there were several feet between them and they were both wrapped in towels, Rogue was feeling painfully exposed, and not just in a physical way. Their argument had re-opened old wounds and started new ones, but she had more important things on her mind to worry about without getting caught up in yet another ridiculous blame game. She removed the pants from the set and thoughtfully shoved them into his arms, determined to shut out the uncomfortable aspects of their friendship that she _could_ deal with.

"Do me a favor and wear these, at least. Ah know you're hell bent on being an exhibitionist, but Ah'd appreciate it if ya kept your little snuffleupagus locked up." _(2)_

His eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline and he gaped in righteous indignation. "_Little _Snuffleupagus?!"

"Did Ah stutter, Mistuh LeBeau?"

Expressive eyes narrowing contemptuously, a muscle in his jaw jumped as he ground his teeth together and put his hands on his narrow hips, the pajama bottoms dangling by his side.

"_**Little**_**. **_S__nuffleupagu__s."_

"Kindly keep it locked up so it don't escape in the middle a' the night and ravish a village," Rogue was using her 'no nonsense' teacher voice, although she figured it wouldn't hurt to throw in a tiny helping of politeness. _"Please."_

With a chilly smile and a slight head bob, he did his best 'Westley' impression as he shook open the pair of pants. "As you wish." (3)

"Pshhh. You are NO Man in Black, suh! At least _he_ had manne-" Rogue started to say as she rolled her eyes scornfully toward the ceiling.

Gambit tilted his chin up haughtily, lips curled up at the corners of his mouth like the Grinch on Christmas Eve. With a grand flourish, he aggressively flicked the edge of his towel.

It fell to the floor with a soggy thud.

She gasped and jerked her gaze away a second too late to avoid seeing his partly aroused and neatly trimmed glory as it bounced back from the movement, slapping wetly against the middle of his thigh. Snickering, he bent down to slide the pajamas on as she stomped to the tub, loudly insulting him and the mother that he'd never known before slamming the flimsy wooden door behind her.

* * *

Rogue took her time in the shower, bitterly scrubbing her seawater soaked skin until it glistened pink. She was furious at the carefree way that Gambit had so easily slipped back into his seductive mannerisms, and even more upset with herself for wanting to laugh at his outrageousness.

_Ah think 'Thick as thieves' must mean that thieves are thick in THE HEAD,_ she fumed, wanting to choke him until that infernal smirk left his face for good. Why on earth couldn't he ever stay serious for more than a minute at a time?!

Venting her anger on her own body, she yanked his hairbrush violently through the wet ringlets of her chest length mane, glaring at her reflection in the foggy glass. A rummage through the medicine cabinet turned up a scrunchie, and she wondered briefly how long it had been in there and whom it had come from. Not wanting to know the answer, she twisted her locks into a wet bun so that they would curl instead of fluffing out into a humidity-inspired afro. Her mind raced with petty thoughts of revenge and she pounded her fist down on the sink, staring at the bottle of mouthwash next to his light saber-shaped toothbrush. (4)

She glanced from it to the bottle of Old Spice shampoo and smiled evilly.

* * *

When she exited the bathroom, she found him lying on his right side on the couch and facing into the chenille cushions. While she was in the shower he had fed the cats and found himself a spare blanket and pillow. All three furballs were curled up across his neck and feet, purring loudly. She leaned over the back of the sofa and aggressively ruffled his damp hair, knowing that he was only pretending to sleep.

Cracking open one dark eye, Gambit looked up at cautiously, expecting some sort of beating. "You wouldn' hit a guy with kittens, would you…?"

"Of course not!" she scoffed, feigning insult. Actually, she _had_ been planning on flipping the couch over, but couldn't bring herself to disturb the happy little buggers. "Ah just wanted to tell ya that you're an asshole, and good night."

If there was one aspect of their relationship that the both of them still clung to religiously, it was the pact that they would try not to go to sleep mad at one another.

"You love it, or else y' wouldn't have asked me to come get you," he parroted her words from earlier in the evening with a chuckle, and winced when she boxed his ear in remonstration. With a yawn, he caught her hand and rubbed the back of it against his rough cheek. Kissing her wrist, he murmured sleepily, "Bon amoureux de nuit, beaux rêves.(Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams)"

Although a shadow momentarily darkened her expression, she managed a small smile and said softly, "Same ta you, sugar."

* * *

The bed was cool and smelled achingly familiar as she slipped under the sheets, deeply inhaling the spicy musk of his natural scent. There was a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen already set out for her, and she was surprised to find one of her old stuffed teddy bears hiding between the pillows. Not long after she'd lost her virginity, she had insisted on donating all of her collection to charity as something of a right of passage; grown women didn't need children's toys. (5)

When Gambit had been skulking around the mansion and avoiding her after his return from Antarctica, he must have purloined this particular specimen from one of the Goodwill boxes. It was a brown plushie with cherry colored glass eyes, and happened to be her favorite because it reminded her of the Cajun's unique ocular mutation. The act of holding on to it for so many years was disturbingly sweet for a lot of reasons, all of which made her smile sadly. Gambit was forever carrying out thoughtful gestures; his attention to even the most seemingly insignificant details never failed to floor her. It was one of many idiosyncrasies that had caused her to fall so hard for him. Popping four Advil and swigging down half of the water, she laid on her side with the bear clutched to her chin and hoped that tonight she wouldn't have any bad dreams. The last thought on her mind was of gratitude for her annoying best friend as she fell into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

After such a physically and emotionally draining day, Gambit had thought that he'd pass out within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. His hyperactive mind, however, had a different agenda. Time seemed to drag by as he mulled over everything that Rogue had said to him, and more importantly, over all the things she _didn't_ say. It bothered him immensely that she felt so little remorse for killing the Grim Reaper and seemed willing to do so again. With few exceptions (_Tombstone, Cich_,_ Julien, he grimaced_) every life that he'd ended, whether as a teenager traumatized by his own powers, a thief, or as an X-Man, left him desperate to escape the ensuing despair that came with causing the death of another living being. More often than not, that desire for redemption led him to comitting even more unwittingly atrocious crimes.

Once again, he thought of the mysterious, dark haired beauty that he'd chased halfway around the world after Borya Cich's fundraising party. When Joelle had asked him what it was about her that attracted his eye in the first place, he had chivalrously neglected to mention that her full sleeve tattoo had reminded him of the one that his ex-girlfriend sported during their time in Valle Soleada. Although the tragically misguided woman hadn't wanted his help, he'd ended up being so drawn to her dark self loathing that he hadn't cared how many rules he broke or people he pissed off in his attempt to help her out of a bad situation. Unbidden, he remembered Rogue's words to him when she had been trying to talk him out of getting involved with a dangerous femme fatale that he barely knew anything about: "_Remy, Ah came here ta help, 'cause Ah don' wanna see you drive yourself off a cliff if Ah can stop you." (6)_

Her instinct had been spot on, of course; he had been too blinded by his damnable hormones and damsel-in-distress complex to step back and see that Joelle was after a W.M.D, not some mystery cure for her ailing daughter. In the end, his blind trust in the girl had validated his efforts when they found that she only wanted the dangerous chemical to put an end to her own immortal suffering. _I was a fool t' think I could give her something worth living for. Thank goodness she didn't have any actual 'evil villain' plans for dat stuff, though. Just 'nother classic example of ol' Remy LeBeau and his brilliant failures. _

Rogue, on the other hand, had admitted that it was more than just official, why-are-you-causing-so-much-trouble concern that caused her to follow his trail to the Canadian Rockies. She'd accidentally dropped the 'L' word, and actually meant it for the first time since before his idiot decision to become a horseman.

And then she went and pulled a petty stunt by deliberately letting one of Tombstone's lackeys take a potshot at her during battle.

How many times now had she taken down the Avengers all by her lonesome? Two? Three? She could have mopped the floor with those thugs. Instead, she had let herself get shot because she wanted to see if he would choose her over the woman who had, up until fifteen minutes earlier, been lying half-naked in the snow with him.

Snorting, Gambit wondered just how clueless she thought he was. Especially priceless was the betrayed expression on her adorable face when she'd silently realized that it was _her _stalling that allowed his partner in crime to steal the Avengers' ungodly expensive Quinjet. He was grateful that it had given him the necessary excuse to remain at her side, though. _Not that I wouldn't have chosen her regardless._

After Joelle's death, he had been too torn up to press Rogue into continuing their conversation. Then, just like his life always seemed to do, shit hit the fan in rapid succession in the forms of Fence, Rhodey, and the Thieves Guild. With so many different problems to deal with all at once, he'd been too overwhelmed to accept her invitation to join the Avengers. At the time, he had thought that she asked merely to keep him out of trouble and give him a more noble sense of purpose (no matter how ill it fit). Upon observing how withdrawn and hostile she was tonight, however, he wondered if maybe she had asked for a more selfish reason…Like having the one person in the world that she trusted the most at her side, helping to deflect the constant bigotry in the Unity Squad. (7)

_Them couyouns been ostracizing her somethin' fierce and it's really wearing her down, _he reflected morosely._ It must be pretty damned bad if the poster child for redemption is becoming homicidal._ _Here I been so busy wallowing in my own pity dat I didn't see how bad she's hurtin', too._

Tomorrow he would do his best to get her away from the dangerous path she was treading before she made an irrevocable decision that would haunt her like his poor judgement calls haunted him. In their line of work, accidents could be forgiven- cold blooded murder, not so much. There were too many echoes of Magneto in her current 'judge, jury and executioner' mindset. Just the mere thought of Rogue becoming a self righteous killer knotted his stomach. Finding that he had unconsciously tensed up, he forced his stiff muscles to relax. Trying to think of something more pleasant, he recalled how bewitchingly untamed she'd looked after beating Dancing Water to a pulp; a perfect picture of her normal, ass-kicking self. The memory of when she'd proudly turned to him, the breeze teasing her hair into a wild nimbus and the reflection of the ocean waves dancing across her nude curves, backfired spectacularly in the form of a beckoning twitch from his pants. (8)

Groaning in self-reproach, Gambit turned restlessly on the couch…completely forgetting about his skinned ribs. He stifled a yelp and flipped back over to keep from sticking to the fiber of the cushion, and that was when he heard the noise. It had sounded like a low pitched whine but was gone as fast as it had arisen. Figaro's small white form suddenly perched on the armrest, his tiny body stiff and little ears pricked forward like furry antennae as he listened for the smallest movement. If the kitten had heard it too, Gambit was pretty sure he wasn't imagining it. Leaning up from the oversized pillows, he strained to hear the bizarre intonation again.

Ten minutes passed, but other than the wail of a far off siren and the ever-present hum of city life just outside the walls there was nothing out of the ordinary. He began to wonder if his concern was misplaced. Eyelids drooping heavily, he was on the verge of nodding off when he plainly heard the anguished lamentation coming from his bedroom.

Every time Rogue had been in a coma (or close to it), or had suffered a severely traumatic event, she would experience incredibly vivid nightmares for days afterwards. Occasionally they went on for weeks, so whenever he'd been able to, he'd been there to comfort her. The fact that she had always been lulled by his presence was the reason Xavier had insisted on having him stay by her side when he'd put her into an induced catatonic state to remove the mental power blocks that stunted her growth. Rogue had been pretty vocal about how much she hated feeling dependent. Eventually she'd relented, accepting the Professor's decision even though it meant acknowledging a reliance on her ex-boyfriend. Gambit had assured her that he had no qualms about being her 'anchor', but the self-loathing on her face had been quite apparent. No wonder she hadn't wanted to stay- _Her team treats her like shit, of course she feels like she's being a burden…! (9)  
_

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He cracked himself in the forehead for not realizing it sooner, and rose quickly from the sofa.

* * *

1) _Uncanny Avengers #2_

2) _I'm not a big fan of Amy Shumer, but her comedy act, "Mostly Sex Stuff" was on one night and I about died laughing. Youtube it and fast forward to 18:15 (it's in the skit that's 41:18 minutes long) to see her relive the shock of discovering that her date was uncircumsized. Which we now know that Gambit is, thanks to the marvelously talented Kris Anka. Oh God, now that image is stuck in my head again! AUGHH! I'm so sorry, Mr. Snuffleupagus! *raises fists and shouts in Captain Kirk style* "ANKKAAAAAA!"_

_3) _Princess Bride, anyone? Man, I am just full of pop references this chapter…__

___4) _Wal-Mart, $3. Mine's Darth Vader red! And it glows!____

____5) _I REFUSE to acknowledge that BS with Sentry. Nope, nuh uh. Not in this story!_____

_____6) G_ambit Volume 4 #12.______

______7)_ Gambit Volume 4, issues 13-16._______

_______8) That's right. I just threw Magneto under the bus. HA! Seriously though, does anyone else see how his vigilante beliefs might have rubbed off on his girlfriend? It really makes sense if you read about how cold and cruel he's been in his new ongoing series. I can't wait to see the standoff between him and Rogue over their differing opinions on what's right and what's wrong. Hopefully it's enough to make her finally realize that he's not the one for her. _______

_______9) _X-Men Legacy #224.________


	13. Chapter 13

The leader of the Thieves Guild made nary a sound as he stole into the bedroom with the preternatural grace of stalking panther, naturally avoiding the squeakiest of the old floorboards. Fading twilight washed the furniture in watery shades of blue, but the hunched up figure in the middle of the bed was hidden in shadow. Like a frightened child, Rogue had curled up to the point that her knees nearly touched her nose, and her bruised fists were white knuckled where they gripped the stuffed bear. The sheets were kicked to the end of the bed and half of the decorative pillows were scattered across the floor. Sleep fighting with her demons, she was grimacing and wheezing. Apparently she had been twisting and turning for a while, seeing as to how the flannel shirt was bunched up around her elbows. He was too concerned with her current state of distress to pay much more than a passing glance at her bare lower body, although he made a mental note to hunt down a spare pair of shorts once they sorted this mess out.

Settling carefully onto the bed so as not to disturb her (she'd damn near knocked him once; after that he'd decided never to try the direct approach again), he watched and waited to see which particular devil she was dealing with this time. It wasn't long before her chin wrinkled and she cried out pitifully, her muscles quivering like a leaf in a storm.

"Who is it?" he whispered.

"Puh..."

He leaned closer, the fine hairs on his arm prickling at the sensation of her warm breath.

"….pruhfess…"

"Professor? You mean Charles?" he questioned gently.

"Please no…so cut…up," she sobbed in her sleep, the sound forming icicles in his chest. "God, _whyyy_…!"

Ahh. She was reliving finding Professor Xavier's body. The revelation sucked the breath out of his lungs in a long winded, exasperated exhalation. This had likely been a nightly occurrence for some time now, and Rogue being the stubborn ass that she was, probably hadn't told anyone. No wonder she was having a meltdown; a lack of good, healing sleep would make even the toughest person do batty things. Dealing with the psychic echoes of the people she'd imprinted was difficult enough without being tortured by her own mind as well.

"Anna, bébé - wake up," he said sweetly, loud enough to disturb her.

Her eyes snapped open, the pupils hugely dilated and nearly eclipsing the chartreuse of her irises. She abruptly sat up, disoriented, and glanced around the room as if she were a terrified wild beast who had just discovered itself in a cage. Whatever she was seeing scared the bejeezus out of her, and she scooted frantically up against the headboard as if to distance herself from the threat. Deathly pale, the tousled white halo of hair around her sallow cheeks made her appeared almost wraith-like as she started to hyperventilate.

"Shh, shhh. It's okay. You're safe, fille," he crooned soothingly when her unfocused stare finally settled on him.

Concentrating so that his eyes flared slightly in the dark, a warmth simmered in their crimson hued centers. His mild hypnotic suggestion only worked when the person on the receiving end was already distracted, although more often not, people ran screaming from the freaky-eyed ghoul who scared them out of their wits. In her already panicked state he wagered it was worth a try.

"He's long gone, ain't nothin' you could have done about it."

Rogue's shoulders visibly relaxed as he held eye contact, her expression smoothing into a blank slate, and he began to inch slowly towards her. The early morning light sparkled off of the tears that pooled along her eyelids and continued to spill down her cheeks even after the gruesome memory receded.

Once he was close enough that he could securely snatch her up if she spazzed out, he murmured, "Everythin's gon' be all right."

Cautiously, he reached out and touched her cheek, the physical contact breaking the trance. Suddenly realizing exactly where she was and who she was with, Rogue inhaled sharply and seized Gambit's outstretched hand in admonition. She squeezed hard enough to pop his knuckles and he froze, worried that he was about to end up leaving a Wile E. Coyote-style hole in the nearest wall. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, demanding an explanation.

"You were cryin' out in your sleep. Woke me AND the cats up," he said with an accusing tone.

Horrified, she looked down at his limp fingers (which were beginning to swell from lack of circulation) and released her grip, covering her mouth with both of her hands.

With an anguished groan, she said thickly, "Ah'm _**so **_sorry, Remy…! Ah tried to cover mah face when Ah fell asleep so Ah wouldn't wake you!"

"S'okay. I should've known better- your night terrors are always pretty extreme. I should charge admission to the show, _neh_?" He shook out his numbed digits with a benign smile, grateful that she hadn't swung at him.

Seeing that she was inordinately upset, he gently slipped his forearm around her waist and pressed her up against his unburnt side. Although her body stayed rigid at first, the calming drumbeat of his heart against her ear and scratchy stubble prickling her forehead was a reassurance that she needed badly. Rubbing small circles comfortingly across the top of her shoulder with his free hand to calm her taut muscles, the Cajun desperately wished that he could undo all of the heartache that she'd endured over the last year. After a minute or so, Rogue slumped against his throat and sniffled miserably.

"How long has this been goin' on?" he queried in a low voice.

"Since…," she paused and swallowed hard, turning her face into his neck so that her words were muffled, " Well, since Ah found him. Ah just… cain't get it outta mah head."

_Yup, PTSD. Called dat one. _"Why didn' you get help?"

She stiffened again and tried to pull away.

"Arrêter!(stop!)" Gambit said sternly and refused to let her go, interlocking his arms around her and squeezing until she stopped struggling.

It pained him greatly to realize how small she felt in his bearhug. The tough, take-no-shit Avenger was on holiday; in her place was the fragile girl who no one ever saw- the one hid her hurt under a façade of sarcasm and bloody knuckles. "I get it. The others don't care _for_ you, so why should they care _about_ you, n'est pas?"

"Ah don't need their help," she grumbled as she swiped the tears from her cheeks, hating that he'd caught her in a moment of weakness and that she sounded like a petulant brat. "Ah just need for them to see how messed up Wanda is."

He drew back, chin tucked in as he eyed her disbelievingly. "You _really_ going to blame her for Charley's death? What about Scott?"

"Scott was the end, she was the beginning. None of this crap woulda happened if it weren't for her," Rogue said with a hiss. Seeing the concern on Gambit's face calmed her temper, though; she wanted him to understand the desperation of her situation.

"She killed _so_ many of us, and she was ready ta do it again with nothin' so much as a tiny telepathic nudge. You weren't there, Rem. You didn't feel that sick Nazi in ya head, sounding like Charles, or have to see what they-," her voice broke and she bit back a sob, tensing up again. After a few shallow breaths, she continued,"…what they did to his body. Scott wasn't the only one that he was a father to, ya know. The man saved mah life, took me in when Ah couldn't control mahself and taught me how to control this rotten power. Even if it's the last thing Ah do, Ah won't let her ruin his memory an' everythin' we've fought for." (1)

With a disgruntled sigh, he loosened his hold and let her draw back into herself. Sometimes he really hated being right, but this was not a subject to be discussed when they were both exhausted and easily angered. He needed rest first, and so did she, judging by the ghostly pallor of her downturned face.

"This conversation ain't done, no matter what you say. But I ain't about to argue with a half dead lunatic. I can call Deadpool for dat," he joked flatly. "We both need rest. You goin' to be able to stay asleep without howlin' like a _Rougarou_ all night?" (2)

Her wry smile belied her somber tone as she answered, "Toldja to take me back to the mansion, didn't Ah?"

"Hrmph. Then I guess I'm just going to have to stay here and smother you if y' insist on making so much noise," he complained dramatically, flopping down and propping his head up with his arm.

Swiping the pillow from her side of the bed with his free hand, he held it up warningly as her mouth dropped open and she stared at him.

Rogue blinked several times, dumbfounded. Gambit hadn't approached her unstable emotional state with this level of insolence since their harsh discussion about boundaries on the rooftop of the old Xavier mansion, many many moons ago. She seriously considered throttling the disrespectful Cajun despite the inviting way that the naked crook of his arm beckoned to her tired face. (3)

"Ah would rather sleep with a gator!"

Without warning, Gambit railed her across the chest with the pillow, knocking her onto her back. "Dat ain't what you were sayin' earlier!"

Spluttering just about every obscenity she could think of, she went for his throat…only to be deflected by another whap upside the head.

"_Wow! _Did you absorb somebody wit' Tourette's or what?" he grinned as she knelt on the edge of the mattress and glared fiercely at him.

"You touch me even one time an' Ah _SWEAR_ Ah'll absorb ya until there's _nothin' left but ya bones_!"

"As long you leave the bone dat counts, go for it!"

The veins that crisscrossed under the thin skin of her clenched fists ticked faster, keeping time with her rising blood pressure. Even the dim light of oncoming dawn seemed to shrink away from her darkened eyes as she practically shouted, "Remy_. Etienne. __**LeBeau**_!"

Grimacing inwardly at the scolding, he couldn't avoid the guilt trip that came with being called by his full moniker. It had been ingrained in his very being as a youth, governed by strict Catholic rules. Tante Mattie had used it so often when he was a child that he had thought that everyone had the same name. Hearing it in Rogue's sulky southern tone, though, had an entirely different effect, regardless of the fact that she looked mad enough to spit nails.

"_Oui_, Annie?" he said sweetly.

His pleasant smile and suddenly meek behavior threw a curveball at her anger.

"Ugh. An' here Ah didn't think you could do worse than 'Roguey'," she said, frowning in disgust. Dealing with his neverending nonsense was akin to having a splinter stuck under her fingernail.

"I kinda like it when you talk to me like I been a bad boy. You need one o' dem sexy schoolteacher outfits, though."

A really _big_ splinter. "Oh mah Gawd, shut _up_!"

"Make me." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"**GRAHHH**!" She flipped over to put her back to him, fuming. It was absolutely astounding how quickly he could get her from a tearful emotional breakdown to bloodthirsty rage, but for the life of her, she couldn't think straight enough to handle the situation more maturely. "If you're dead in the mornin', don't blame me."

"I'll die a happy man, knowin' I passed away in your arms. And then I'll come back an' haunt you," he teased, daring to pinch her bare ass.

Swiftly jerking back around in a flurry of flannel, Rogue straddled his waist and ripped the down-filled cudgel out of his hand. She walloped him across the jaw with all her might.

"_Ah already have enough loved ones haunting me, you DICK!"_

The wetness had returned to her eyes as she raised the pillow to clobber him again. He abruptly realized that she wasn't playing around and threw up his hands, palms facing out in surrender.

"I didn' mean it like da-!"

It wasn't the blow that hurt so much as the action of woman behind it, as she decked him square in the cheek with the fluffy weapon. Although her temper was quick to take offense and she was known to dole out some hard knocks when provoked, this time there was a viciousness he'd never seen before. Luckily for him, Rogue no longer had super-strength; otherwise she would've taken his head clean off. The thief sat up so fast that before she could figure out what was happening, he'd karate-chopped the pillow out of her grasp and latched onto her wrists. Roughly, he forced her arms out at an awkward angle.

Eyes blazing like stoked coals, he roared, "_I was_ **_joking_**!"

She relented at the ferocity in his tone, mortified that she'd actually struck him with the intention of causing pain. Tugging weakly at his inflexible grip, her lower lip crinkled despondently and she cried, "Ah cain't take all your stupid teasin' right now, Remy! Why do ya always have ta push mah buttons-why cain't you just leave well enough alone?!"

"I was tryin' t' make y' laugh b'cuz seein' y' cry 'bout damn near _broke my heart_!" Gambit's anguished Lousiana accent was ridiculously murky, the admittance of brutal honesty making his throat tighten painfully. "I can't_ stand _seein' y' like dis!"

Enmity shattered by his declaration, she slowly sank down until she was sitting atop his legs, careful not to disturb his stitches. Both of them were breathing hard, and after a moment in which neither X-Man could find the right words to apologize, Gambit caved in first. He dropped his head forward so that his brow rested in the valley between her breasts and released her hands, letting his fingers slide down her elbows and fall limply onto her hips. Rogue turned her head towards the far wall of the bedroom with a shaky sigh and rested her cheek sadly on his head, encircling his shoulders in a conciliatory hug. As irritating as it was, his blasé approach to her sorrow had only been meant as a distraction; he didn't genuinely mean to piss her off. Outside, the sky had turned a hazy shade of amythest and birdsong filtered through the slightly opened bedroom window.

Pained by the thought of how many of their extended 'family' weren't alive to witness the birth of another sunrise, she said quietly, "Ah'm so sick of worrying what's gonna happen to all of us. Ah've never felt so lost before, like the light at the end a' the tunnel is really an incomin' train. Seems like life is nothin' but sacrifice after sacrifice anymore…except now it don't ever seem to make a difference."

"Your sacrifices are never pointless," he replied, equally as soft, and drew back so he could see her face.

There was none of the usual oily, lecherous suggestion in his eyes as he looked up from under his tousled mess of chestnut hair and undid the buttons of her shirt. Rogue couldn't help flinching from a mix of surprise and consternation as his hands slipped under the fabric and pulled it open, partially exposing her front half to him. Oh-so-delicately, he touched the tips of his fingers to the jagged white mark emblazoned across the base of her right breast, the one that zig-zagged down the side of her sternum. Pulling her hand from his neck, he placed it on the matching scar that marred his own chest, spreading her fingers out so that her palm slid warmly over his heart. (4)

"You're _my_ savin' grace." He stared intently at the wound, the reverence in his tone so full of adoration that she forgot how to breathe for several seconds.

Somewhere deep down inside Rogue's subconscious, something snapped, devastated by the memory of how they had almost died by Vargas' sword. It drove out all emotions but one. Tugging her hand free of his gentle hold, she cupped his rough jaw and tilted his face up to hers.

"Ah would do it all over again, too," she said in a hushed voice, her eyes brimming with tears. "Ah love y-"

Gambit surged upwards, compulsively devouring her words as they locked lips for the first time in over a year.

...

_So yeah. Like no one saw **that** coming, lol. There's always going to be some predictability in Romy stories; it seems like it just can't be helped. Just like the next chapter, which, I warn you now, is gonna be for mature audiences only. It's really tough to write an intimate scene between your heroes without delving into the embarrassment of sounding like a cheap romance novel, but I'm gonna give it my best, y'all! Thank you for all the compliments and reviews- you guys keep me humble :)_

_1) Not to toot my own horn, but if Remender had just taken the time to EXPLAIN the reasoning that would drive an otherwise strong &amp; stoic character to commit murder, there would've been no need for this story._

_2) _Rougarou: Cajun swamp monster, similar to a werewolf. I find the weirdest things with Google…(edit, apparently this mythical beast was mentioned during a 'haunted bayou tour' in Gambit vol. 3, issue #9. The one with Brother Voodoo.)__

__3) Uncanny X-Men #297__

__4) X-Treme X-Men #17. I will never forget how upset that issue made me, seeing the both of them momentarily dead like a twisted, modern day Romeo and Juliet. __

__Note: The last part of this chapter is where the story's avatar,"Morning Sugar", came from ;)  
__


	14. Chapter 14

_*The moral of this chapter is to always use protection, kids. Like a flak jacket.* _

Those three little syllables had an explosive effect on Gambit, mostly because he'd sensed that they were the truth before she even said them out loud. He could no sooner stop the world from turning than ignore the blitzkrieg of emotion that drove him to ravenously crush his mouth on hers. Rogue's tactile perception instantly became so acute that it overwhelmed all five senses and left her with a dizzying awareness of feeling truly alive for the first time in ages. She returned the kiss with all the desperation of a weary desert traveler who had stumbled across a lush oasis, drinking in his ardor like she would never get enough. Her fingers developed minds of their own, feverishly exploring every inch of warm flesh in their reach as they reacquainted themselves with the only man who had ever provoked such an extreme state of rapture. Winding his hands tightly into her shirt, he unceremoniously yanked her into his lap and flexed his hips irresistibly against her pubic bone. The tiny whimper she breathed against his cheek nearly drove him mad with desire. So intoxicated by the heady feedback of her impassioned reaction, he didn't even feel the kinetic charge leaving his fingertips.

Such was the nature of their irresistible attraction, even from the first time in Antarctica when they'd finally discovered what it truly felt like to touch one another. Much like a pair of electromagnets, once the current was turned on it was almost impossible to separate them. _Almost_. _(1)_

In the back of her mind, the only part still capable of normal function at that point, Rogue dimly recognized the static vibration that was super-heating her skin. She broke away with a surprised exclamation and firmly extracted Gambit's hands from her shirt. Initially, he was confused by her sudden backtracking...until he realized that there was an unhealthy iridescent glow to the folds of the blue striped flannel. His dark eyes widened in fear at the sight of his gleaming fingernails, lit from within as if there was a flashlight shining through the blood vessels.

"_**Foutre ma viiiiiie**__…! (fuck my liiiiife)_" Gambit groaned in aggravation; Two more seconds of inattention and he would have redecorated the bedroom with her innards. He abruptly clenched his fingers into fists to silence the unstable molecules.

With a faint sizzling sound, the charge extinguished itself in a torrent of fuchsia bubbles, each sphere popping and sparking like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Still giddy from the steamy lip-lock, Rogue chuckled breathlessly, proud of the fact that she alone could trigger such a profound effect on the notorious ladies' man.

Gambit, however, was humiliated by his inability to reign in the excessive energy. Remembering how he had nearly cooked her and Colossus the last time his mutant ability flared wildly out of control, he frowned at her unwitting insult and collapsed back onto the mattress with a pronounced 'thump'. Slapping his hands over his forehead, he muttered angrily about broadsword wielding, hijab-wearing English crusaders. (2)

Understanding the frustration of dealing with an unmanageable mutant power better than most, Rogue regretted laughing at his ineptitude. Out loud, anyway. The fact that her perch had developed a rather tantalizing hard spot only exacerbated the seriousness of the situation. She skimmed her fingers lovingly across the hills and valleys of his stomach, noting how the muscles contracted sharply at her light petting and betrayed his heightened awareness of her touch. Calming her excited heartbeat to a more manageable rate, she placidly massaged his torso until his rapid breathing slowed, and, with a mournful sigh, he dragged his fingers across his face. The way that Gambit looked up at her, his thwarted expression comically exaggerated to Grumpy Cat level, nearly overrode all of her training in the art of keeping a straight face under pressure.

"You _know_ Ah can take that away... if you'll let me," she said, trying to sound soothing instead of cracking up at his childish pout. She continued to knead his abdomen while surreptitiously working her way south, keeping her chin down so that he wouldn't see the way her lips were starting to tic at the corners.

"No you can't," he replied grumpily, shooting her a grouchy look for not only continuing to tease him, but for being amused by his obvious discomfort. "We been down this road before an' it damn near ended in disaster. If I get really worked up there's no guarantee I won't hurt you. Granted, death by sex is a helluva way t' go, but still...!"

"Oh, ye of little faith," she huffed, affronted. Rogue favored him with the same confident smile that she'd often used on students who didn't know their full potential -until she used their own powers to show them what they were missing. "Ya don't know how ta control it because you're too afraid ta _try. _Although… yeah, the less ammo for you ta accidentally charge, the better."

Slowly shrugging out of the pajama top, she launched it neatly overhand into the laundry basket in the corner, her smile becoming decidedly more sly as she heard his sharp intake of breath. He swallowed nervously at the way her perky breasts jiggled from the movement, finding that he suddenly had an excess of saliva. As much as he wanted her, this enthralling display of sensuality needed be stopped immediately, nipped in the bud before things got out of hand and he hurt her...but the words got caught in his vocal chords.

_For shit's sake_, _homme-you are better than this!_ he silently admonished himself. They'd been broken up for ages now, she wasn't supposed to be able to reduce him to a drooling twit! His voice came out as little more than a croak.

"Chere...I can't..."

"Shush, boy. Ah know what Ah'm doin'," she commanded gently as she reached behind her head and pulled loose the ancient scrunchie that Jubilee had given him as a gag gift. "You been trying ta help me, lemmie return the favor already."

She merrily slingshot it at his chin when his eyebrows puckered in concern, his clenched fists and stiff muscles speaking of tremendous restraint. A chaotic waterfall of curls cascaded over her deceptively dainty-looking shoulders, glimmering with highlights of copper, bronze and cinnamon. Rogue lifted her face to bask in the warmth of the rising sun and gracefully stretched upwards until her thighs quivered invitingly against his own. Drawn downwards by an irresistible urge, his gaze followed the smooth, toned lines of her stomach muscles all the way to clean-shaven juncture between her legs, then abruptly snapped back up when she wriggled from side to side and cracked her neck and knuckles. The bruises from their battle on the beach showcased the delicacy of her natural alabaster skin (_Dat's about the only good thing to come of wearin' dat hideous uniform alla time,_ he mused). Although she'd lost a few stress-related pounds, she was his favorite work of art and always would be; a classic, robust southern Aphrodite who made his fingers itch with the temptation to caress every part of her.

Rogue soaked up the much-needed attention like a sponge, weariness forgotten as she noted that the dreamy look in Gambit's eyes was at the intersection of '_God, you're gorgeous'_ and '_If you don't knock it off, I AM GONNA WRECK YOU'_. His right leg had begun to twitch restlessly in spite of his steadfast attempt at maintaining a cool demeanor.

_Reckon Ah'm the snake charmer now,_ she laughed in secret. There was just something so addictive and so irresistible about teasing her ex; it inspired her to a level of daring exploits that normally she would never contemplate. Rising into a kneeling position, she mischievously fingered the edge of his pants. Suddenly, his handsome features twisted in alarm.

"What're you doin', woma-_aAAHH_!"

Before he could fathom her plan, she yanked his pants down to mid-thigh and briskly resumed her seat. As Gambit uttered a strangled cry and reached up to push her back, the determined brunette caught his hands and laced her fingers with his in a fierce game of 'uncle'. Twisting his wrists backwards and forcing him to lie flat, she leaned over him and pressed her weight down, gyrating her pelvis against the erection that reached for his belly button. He gagged on his reprimand, the platysma muscles on both sides of his neck bulging as his head slammed back into the pillow.

"_Hahhh_…!" Rogue exhaled vigorously and half-closed her eyes, concentrating on siphoning only what was necessary. She shuddered, not from fear but from the invigorating tingle of his mutant ability as she carefully assimilated it through every point of physical contact.

A strangely calming sensation stole over Gambit as the roiling, unstable energy started to drain away. So unlike the harshness of the absorption last night, this peaceful transfer left him feeling considerably less volatile and more like the man he'd been before his unwanted power upgrade. With hooded eyelids, his ex-girlfriend watched his tension level fall, the mossy green of her irises bright with newly compounded desire. When the hazel hue around her pupils started to turn red, Rogue blinked slowly and they returned to normal. She slackened the death grip on his hands, her own fingers dappled with diminutive, fast moving pinpoints of fuschia light that darted up her forearms before disappearing somewhere in the vicinity of her elbows.

"Toldja so," she panted once he'd completely slumped into the bed, smugly satisfied with her effort. "You're such a big sissy. All you gotta do is reabsorb it."

Gambit puffed out the breath he hadn't known that he was withholding and shook his head in disbelief, amazed at how easy she made it look to dispel his unmanageable energy. "You're insane, petite. Certifiably nuts."

Rogue smirked like an uppity smartass. "Heh. Ah thought you had a better poker face than _that_, Gumbo. You almost popped yer cork."

Betrayed by his own absorbed thoughts, he pursed his lips and growled warningly. "I almost blasted you through the roof!" (3_)_

"Mmhm. Promises promises." Rogue murmured into the underside of his chin, unconvinced. Her long white bangs tickled his cheeks.

He pulled her hands up over his head, forcing her curvy body to recline atop his own lean frame. The slickness with which she garnished his arousal instantly overpowered his common sense.

"God, you're rotten sometimes," he whispered silkily, a wicked grin stealing across his face. "_My_ turn now, _amoureuse__. (love)_"

Rolling his shoulder upwards, Gambit effortlessly flipped her onto her back and silenced her indignant squawk with his mouth. There was no way he was going to allow this cocky, seductive minx to have the upper hand, not after that beguiling strip show. Holding her wrists hostage with one hand, he tore off his pajamas and chucked them somewhere in the direction of the closet, not caring how many things they knocked off the dresser in their flight. Rogue practically inhaled his lower lip as his dexterous fingers then engaged in a zealous torture of the core of her being, causing her to squirm helplessly from the ache that they inspired.

He was more aggressive than she remembered, conveying his pent up lust through rough-housing. However, she found that once she got over the initial shock, she was grateful for his domineering approach; if he wasn't holding her down he would've been sporting more hickeys than a spots on a dalmation. Seemingly reading her mind, he feathered kisses across her jaw and nipped at her throat, savoring the salty sweetness of her goosebump-riddled skin. His tongue glided flatly across her jugular and dipped into hollow between her collarbones before poignantly tracing the length of the scar around her breast. She made an odd, nasal noise reminiscent of teapot about to boil over and shivered, tugging relentlessly against his iron grip until one of her hands finally worked free and quickly migrated to his groin.

Rogue wasn't above using her vampiric mutant ability to memorize exactly when, where and how hard to exert the exact amount of stroking pressure necessary to drive him crazy. Inside of a minute, she got Gambit to temporarily give up his own ministrations. His forehead thunked down onto her shoulder and he let loose a low, halting whine against the arm responsible for his lack of concentration, struggling to keep the self-control that usually came so effortlessly.

Between her cajoling fingers and the urgent note of the soft mewls that reverberated throughout her chest, the Cajun was already close to making a massive mess on her stomach. With the usual partners that he picked up in bars or during various Guild jobs, he would have been able to prolong the torturous foreplay for hours. But Rogue was hardly the docile type. She flat out refused to let him vicariously experience passion through her reactions, choosing to take the offensive and turn it into a contest to see who could inspire whom more. For too long, the pair of them had been trying to pretend that their physical connection _wasn't_ intensely powerful and all-encompassing. Here and now, though… Sentinels could come crashing through the ceiling and it still wouldn't be enough to pry them apart.

Winded, the Cajun leaned back so that her fingers slipped free of their boisterous grip before he could end the party way too soon. Lifting himself up on one elbow, he studied the willful spitfire beneath him. It was hard to believe that the radiant goddess who questioned his scrutiny with wanton boldness was the same pitiful creature who'd been on the verge of a nervous breakdown just twenty minutes earlier. That little Mona Lisa moue affected him like nothing else he'd ever known; he would barter his soul in a second if there was a way to keep it in place for the rest of her life.

Rogue's smile softened further upon viewing the idolatry in his gaze. She treasured the way it caused the crimson flecks in his irises to throw off a subtle glow, much like the embers of a slowly burning fire. The blaze of early morning sunlight burnished his strong shoulders and disheveled sorrel mane with a golden aura, making him appear almost angelic. He was absolutely breathtaking when he was like this; the loneliness and self loathing that so often plagued his conscience was gone, banished by the confidence of knowing that he was loved.

If she was being honest with herself, she had merely hoped for a bit of affection and never intended for things to escalate into this maddeningly beautiful realm of intense emotion. But now that it had, the gravitational pull between them would not be denied. Her heart thudding like a jackhammer, she lifted her hips to his and silently asked for worship of a more carnal and intimate fashion. Clenching his jaw, Gambit tightened his hold on her right hand. He readjusted his position... and slid into her warmth with a wet squelch.

Even though she thought she'd been ready for it, Rogue nearly ripped the skin off of his left elbow, her nails penetrating his flesh and leaving bloody welts as her back arched up off the bed. Staying celibate for months made for an unexpectedly tight fit. A hiss escaped from between the thief's gritted teeth, his wolfishly pointed canines glinting pinkly from the glowing surge of energy that frothed out of their joined palms. He pushed further, oblivious to the damage being inflicted on his arm, and her delirious cry echoed loud enough to wake everyone on their floor of the building. Not once did he break eye contact, even as his lungs constricted against his will and a sheen of sweat decorated the swollen veins that jutted from his temples and forearms. This feeling between them, this sense of 'coming home', was more valuable than anything either had ever encountered.

At length, Rogue acclimated to the electric jolts radiating from her groin and sank down into the sheets, unlatching her fingernails from his arm. The Cajun finally drew a full breath and cautiously eased into an excruciatingly slow rhythm. He released her hand and flicked the fuchsia bubbles from his fingers. Her spaced-out gaze was fuzzy and unfocused as she smirked around the lower lip clamped between her front teeth, making a concerted effort not to emit any more ridiculously loud sounds. Deftly, she wound her hands into the silky locks that curled up at the base of his neck and pulled his face down to hers, demanding his lips. It was game on from that point as she hooked her ankles together around his hips and pushed back against him in an unspoken dare to break the springs in the king-sized mattress. Only too happy to comply, he picked up the pace and ground harder, punching his fist down into the pillow beside her head as an enthusiastic groan rumbled up from his chest. There was almost none of the gentleness that had defined their previous experiences; the hurricane of ecstasy brought out the suppressed animal in both of them. Lacquered wooden posts creaked in protest with every powerful movement, threatening to separate from the frame as the headboard slammed against the wall. Somewhere in the part of his brain still capable of coherent thought, Gambit made a mental note to drag the bed into the middle of the room once he didn't have the love of his life pinned to it. Assuming it survived the abuse, that is.

It wasn't long before Rogue's breathing became labored and her nails kneaded his biceps; she scrunched her eyes closed, looking for all intents and purposes like she was about to sneeze. He slowed drastically and rocked her in a more tender fashion, nuzzling his nose into her graceful neck. Right on the knife edge with her, he fought mightily against the urge to climax as well, wanting to prolong this surreal encounter as long as possible. Completely engrossed in the epic waves of sensuality crashing over them, neither X-Man noticed the evanescent spheres fizzing out of the pillow or the dangerous pink brilliance that emitted from the fitted sheet, illuminating the ceiling and walls. The intensity between them hit a crescendo and she moaned into his ear.

"…rehh- remyyy…pleeease…" The sound of her voice was little more than a whisper, barely audible over the symphony of blood rushing through his eardrums.

The few times in life that he'd ever heard her beg, it was always on someone else's behalf. But that imploring note, the plea for release in her soft tone, pushed Gambit over the cliff. Unfortunately, as he raised up on both arms to thrust against her one last time, he realized in the same moment that there were white hot arcs of kinetic lightning flickering across the mattress and the pillows were sizzling like bacon on a griddle, wisps of black smoke swirling out from their edges. Choking in alarm at the advanced state of molecular degradation, the thief let go of the sheets and bodily hefted his ex-girlfriend from the burning bed out of pure instinct, cradling her tightly just as the top sheet ignited. Despite the beginning throes of orgasm, the dazed Avenger immediately recognized the danger as well. She reached down behind her back and lobbed the brighter of the two downy bombs at the slightly opened window. It made it partway though and exploded in a burst of feathers, shattering the glass inwards as the concussive force sent both of them tumbling off the corner of the half-charged mattress.

"Anna…!" he gasped when they hit the floorboards still locked together, and unintentionally did the one thing he'd sworn never to do without a condom.

Every muscle from Gambit's abdomen to his knees went into spasm and he reflexively pinned her hard to the creaky wood slats, his ruby eyes flaring like miniature twin stars. Rogue cried out in surprise and clawed futilely at his shoulder blades. The other pillow ruptured violently, adding to the shockwave that rippled through their lower extremities. Unable to deny the powerful stimulation, she curled into him and pressed her forehead into his constricted pectoral muscle as a long, euphoric note wavered up from her larynx. Her inner thighs clamped down tightly on his waist, their twitching sinews triggering a second rush that made his whole body convulse.

On the street below, early morning commuters who were trying to figure out the inexplicable advent of feathery snow suddenly jumped at the guttural howl from the apartment on the fifth floor.

After several lengthy, pulsing moments he hesitantly loosened his crushing hold and eased her shoulders back onto the smoldering floor. Rogue whimpered out a strained mewl, gazing up at the devilish flames that licked upwards from the bed and made a crackling sound reminiscent of static electricity. Disoriented as hell, her glossy eyes traveled back to him, more than a little astonishment shining in their green depths. Gambit's lungs heaved as he strove to regain his lost breath. His heart was pounding so hard that it felt as if it might burst free from his ribcage. Arms shaking weakly, he stared down at her in turn, his angular features contorted in apologetic wonder as he struggled to process her reaction and what he'd almost done to both of them. The fiery glow vanished from his irises.

"I'm...s-suh..sorr-" he tried to speak, but the effort used up the very last of his strength.

Without further ado, Gambit's eyelids drooped and the dull red orbs rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness; he pitched forward and slumped heavily on top of her. She wheezed as the unexpected weight knocked out what little air she had left. Even though the floor was sticky and her insides hurt from being stretched well past their comfort zone, she couldn't help smiling goofily at the strangely pleasurable experience of wearing him like a protective shield. It took a few tries before her leaden arms heeded her command to turn his head to the side, so as not to obstruct his airway. Listening to his raspy breathing and erratic heartbeat, she gave up trying to get her own heart to slow its runaway pace, concentrating instead on the tingling endorphins that danced upon every trembling nerve ending. The last thing she remembered before passing out was kissing the back of his sweat-soaked head and silently thanking him for chasing her demons away.

* * *

_This is the part of the story I've rewritten the most times. It started off funny, then got excessively smutty before evolving (or devolving, some of you may say) into this mess. Lemmie know if you think this is too much. I tried to keep the explicitly graphic wording out of the equation, but a few of the more randy ones slipped through. Speaking of randy, I drew a picture to go with the first part of this chapter. I like to think it's tastefully R-Rated. It's my gift to y'all for your awesome comments. I haven't put it on deviantart or tumblr because I don't want to be seen as one of 'those' people who draw porn of their heroes, so I ask that you not repost it. Maybe someday I'll get over my shyness and share it with the world, but for now it's just for my fellow Romy fans. PM me or leave a comment in the reviews with your email and I'll send you the uncensored copy. (Fyi, you have to put a space between every letter of your email, otherwise it won't show up thanks to fanfiction's dopey filters)  
_

_1) UXM #348._ _I couldn't help the stereotypical magnetic example, LOL. I've often wondered if, when Mags (in his disguise as Erik the Red) saw the surveillance video of Rogue &amp; Gambit's first intimate experience in that Antarctic jail cell, he thought "Oh damn that is HOT. I shoulda hit that in the Savage Land!". *shudder* Seriously though, that is probably my biggest gripe against Rogneto, and it really should have been addressed in the comics._

_2) Gambit vol. 3, #16._

__3) 'Scary Movie', anyone? I'm sorry- I get my inspiration from the WORST places sometimes.__


	15. Chapter 15

_*Bwahaha, y'all thought the story was over, didn't ya?! Nope :) Caution, there's some mature wording of the after-sex nature*_

Alas, sleep (and peace of mind), were not to be forthcoming for poor Rogue. Within minutes of her tempestuous plunge into Never-Never land, the fire alarm began screeching like Banshee on a bender. Snapped back to the squishy harshness of reality in that heart attack of a moment, her discombobulated mind registered only two things right away; 1) that she was in an unfamiliar place, and 2) a large and heavy person was making it very difficult to breathe. Years ago, when she was powerless and at the mercy of a pair of sadistic Genoshan jailers, one of them had tried to force himself on her. Carol Danvers' persona had taken over where her own traumatized psyche failed, saving their jointly shared hide from being raped. Scarred by the experience, Rogue honed her battle instincts to the point that, should she ever find herself in a similar position again, her nervous system would automatically lash out with the most powerful weapon in its arsenal: Her mutation. Under normal circumstances, when she wasn't so sluggish and exhausted, she would've realized more quickly that the hot, dead weight was all Gambit, including the surprisingly unyielding part that remained in occupation of her own body. In a blind panic, she froze and waited for the familiar energy surge to flood her cells. _(1)_

When nothing happened, she blinked in confusion and craned her sore neck to peek over the tanned shoulder obscuring her field of vision. By some fantastic stroke of luck, the first and larger blast had arced around the bed and created a relatively untouched lee in which the two X-Men lay. She couldn't exactly see much, but judging by the splinters of scorched wood strewn about the floor, nearly all of the furniture on the window side of the bedroom had sustained heavy damage. A cloud of black smoke drifted lazily around the rafters, flakes of sooty ash waltzing with bits of eiderdown in its wispy tendrils. Slowly, they drifted toward the draft coming from the mangled iron security bars and dispersed into the cool morning air.

"Remy!" Rogue fretted upon realizing that she was the only one responding to the ear-splitting noise. She reached up from under his armpit, angling her fingers over his shoulder so that she could lightly smack his face. "_Gambit_!"

There was no response. Due to the intensity of their 'workout', all of the kinetic potential that she'd drained when they were fooling around had evaporated, along with the naughty Cajun thoughts that had been skipping around her mind. As a result, there was no absolute way to confirm that she was directly responsible for his vegetative state. _Indirectly_ was a distinct possibility, however; it was fairly obvious now that she had grossly underestimated the level of restraint he had over his amped-up abilities.

She hauled her arm higher and slapped Gambit with enough force to leave a reddened hand print on his roughhewn cheek. Still nothing. Doubt filled her mind, as it was wont to do whenever an attempted absorption went awry. Perhaps she hadn't affected him- maybe she had better control than she'd previously thought!

As she was second guessing herself, Rogue abruptly recalled the last time that her power manifested accidentally. It had happened during the final night that she'd spent with Magneto on Utopia. Granted, understanding of her abilities had progressed by leaps and bounds since the good Professor tore down her self-imposed mental barriers, but much like Kitty Pryde's naturally phased state, keeping the deadly absorption in check required a conscious effort. _(2) _

Learning how to manage it while sleeping would've required a willing Guinea Pig, which Magneto most certainly was not. When Erik had gently shaken her awake on the morning after she made her decision to leave for the Jean Grey School, she'd unintentionally knocked him out for a solid hour. Although he brushed it off like a gentleman at first, by breakfast his lingering feeling of being violated manifested into a fairly snide complaint. Her guilt trip lasted exactly 6 seconds afterward, which was how long it took for him to launch into a lecture about 'discipline' as if she were a rookie recruit. Suffice to say, their farewell had not been as bittersweet as she'd thought it would be. (_3)_

An undercurrent of terror raced through Rogue's thoughts as a new theory occurred to her, competing with the fire alarm for the dubious award of being 'Most Likely to Turn the _Rest_ of Her Hair White'. Had Gambit's attempt to pull the burning energy back into his body at the last moment proved to be more than he could handle? She shook him as violently as her odd position would allow, worriedly thinking, _Oh Gawd **NO**, PLEASE don't be in a coma, Remy! Mah heart can't handle this again!_

Taking a deep breath to calm the overwhelming fear that sent her adrenal glands into a frenzy, Rogue jerked her hips against his in the hope that their connection would stimulate him into consciousness. All that the bold move accomplished was a headache, thanks to the back of her skull bouncing off the hardwood floor. She bit the thick pad of muscle between his shoulder and neck to keep from moaning out loud, chuffing in tormented resentment at the sensual tingle that fluttered straight down to the tips of her toes and made her eyes water.

The senseless thief emitted a feeble groan as he subconsciously picked up on the concentrated spike in her emotional state.

Despite the fact that it was so faint that she felt it rather than heard it, his reaction was all the acknowledgment she needed to confirm that he wasn't brain dead. Relieved, she thought wryly, _Well, no more than usual, that is._

The increase in body temperature wasn't imaginary, though; his skin was mysteriously super heating itself from within. Panting heavily, the alarmed Avenger jammed both palms into Gambit's shoulders and pushed mightily upwards. It was like trying to shove a Clydesdale. She grunted between breaths as she squirmed out from under the unbearably hot thief, his shaggy head lolling limply against her throat before she gave one final shove. He flopped over onto his back, a seemingly boneless, lanky ragdoll with a steadily growing sunburn. Rogue was deeply troubled by his inexplicable fever, but first things first: That damned smoke detector needed to die.

Standing up was easier said than done. Since all of the bones in her legs had apparently turned into jello, the nightstand became a crutch in her struggle to rise. She navigated the minefield of broken glass with an edginess born of muscle fatigue, staggering as if she were a sailor who'd been out at sea for too long. Just as she was reaching for the doorknob, the sound of knocking echoed throughout the apartment.

"Grrhhhr! What Ah wouldn't give for one **normal** day...!" the disgusted Mississippi native lamented out loud, swiping Gambit's fluffy bathrobe from its hook on the wall.

Halfway through one sleeve, she suddenly stiffened and gasped, hunching slightly as his volcanic 'souvenir' slimed her thighs. Rogue ground her teeth in unadulterated vexation and glanced at her lover's prone body on the floor, half expecting a smartass comment instead of the serene, cherubic countenance that greeted her indignant gaze. She muttered a dire threat about neutering before limping to the laundry basket, which had been knocked over by the force of the kinetically charged pillow bombs. After a few judicious swipes with the crumpled pajamas (_Seriously, how much of this stuff can one man produce?! ARGH_), the aggravated mutant hobbled into the cozily furnished living room.

Torn between finding the ungodly loud alarm and answering the persistent knocking, Rogue opted for the more pressing threat first, peering through the peephole to find a very grouchy looking elderly lady glaring back at her. The two locks nearly broke under her ill-tempered grip as she yanked the thick metal door open.

Momentarily startled, the woman's bewildered expression quickly gave way to anger, her white eyebrows lowering testily over her hawk-like, hooked nose. In a heavily accented New York tone, she yelled, "What da _hell_ is goin' on in theah?!"

"Had a little accident!" Rogue announced. When the nosy neighbor tilted her head to one side and cupped a withered hand around her ear, she half-rolled her eyes, held up her pointer finger, and hollered, "Ah'm sorry- 'scuze me a sec!"

Rogue leaned back and snatched a rustic-looking shadow box off of its wall mount near the doorway. She turned and swiftly scanned the living room for the source of the bothersome noise. Once she'd located her quarry, screeching from its home above the overloaded writing desk, she chucked her weapon of choice at the evil little klaxon with all the velocity of a major league pitcher. The heavy framework burst open upon nailing its target, flinging shards of wood skyward and cracking the white casing of the smoke detector. Unfortunately, the excessive force also split the plaster of the wall around the alarm's mount (_Whoops!_), but the apartment plunged into blessed silence. Happy that she'd vanquished the noisy antagonist, she turned back to the startled octogenarian with a maniacal grin and made a mental note to buy Gambit a new picture frame.

The old biddy's thin mouth pressed into an unforgiving line in response to the buxom stranger's cheerfully violent attitude and wanton disregard for private property.

"Where's Mistah Ellis?" She demanded. _(4)_

Rogue was about to ask who the hell she was talking about, but quickly bit back her retort; Gambit must've worn out his 'Robert Lord' alias and come up with a new one. The victorious smirk fell from her face as her tired imagination struggled with the effort of spinning a believable yarn. She raked her fingers through her sweaty, tangled curls.

"He's uh, he's bandaging his…hand… we had a little problem makin'...breakfast."

"Is he all right?" The ancient bird's rheumy eyes were skeptical behind her wire rimmed bi-focals.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. No need ta worry yourself, Miss…?"

"Nancy Olsen, like da actress." She hooked her thumbs under her threadbare, lavender wool cardigan and puffed up proudly, looking slightly less like a human prune. "An' you are? How come I've nevah seen you 'round heah before?"

Rogue was amused by the fact that Mrs. Olsen chose to don a winter sweater in the stifling heat. Wearing full body coverings year round was something she could definitely sympathize with, although her own reasons for hiding skin didn't have a thing to do with age.

"Marie, ma'am. Beg pardon for not shakin' hands: Ah got uhh…ehh-egg white all over 'em."

Gambit wasn't the only one who used an alias. Oftentimes, when she wanted to be semi-honest but maintain a low profile, the newbie Avenger would use her middle name instead. She forced her most charming smile for the old biddy, hoping to send her away as fast as possible so she could scrub the stickiness from her fingers. And other places.

"Look, Ah'm just visitin' for the day and Ah'm right sorry about the racket. We didn't mean ta cause any trouble."

"Well, youse two almost gave me a heart attack! What on earth kinda breakfast involves beatin' onna wall an' explosions?!"

"Uhhhmm, _pancakes_?" Rogue warbled hopefully- and then her fake smile faltered as the muscles in her neck did a fantastic impression of a Mexican jumping bean. Round two had begun a stealthy slide down the insides of her legs. _(5)_

Mrs. Olsen squinted, impolitely scrutinizing the distressed way that Rogue suddenly clutched the terrycloth bathrobe and subtly tucked the folds between her knees. The antediluvian lech smiled meanly, her dry lips making a slash in the leathery, liver spotted canvas of her face.

"Bull. You two are in theah makin' whoopie. I'm old but I'm not dumb, sweethaht. That boy's a real looker! I was startin' ta wondah if he was even on active duty 'cause he's nevah had any little hotsy-totsies ovah except fer that grouchy negro girl."

_Oh good Lord, it's like talkin' to Cap…!_ Rogue's eyes bulged slightly as she stared incredulously at her, equal parts aghast at her offensive choice of words and confused as to the identity of this mystery female. After a brief brain fart, she facepalmed herself as she realized Mrs. Olsen was speaking of Cecelia Reyes, the X-Men's honorary sometime-doctor and one of Gambit's dearest friends. A smidgen of guilt nagged at her conscious for accusing him of promiscuous debauchery in what was -apparently- an uncorrupted apartment. _(6)_

Deigning to acknowledge the accusation, she said instead, "Ah'm sorry, Miss Olsen. It's just that you sound just like this old-fashioned fella Ah know- he's from Hell's Kitchen."

"Yeah? He a cherry?" She grinned toothily, showing off her yellowing dentures. Rogue was pretty sure they might have belonged to George Washington.

"Oh…well, yeah, Ah reckon he's pretty easy on the eyes," she admitted grudgingly, thinking that conning Steve Rogers into a blind date with Mrs. Olsen would be a hilarious prank. "He's a right stick in the mud most of the time, though."

"Hmph. I bet he's a real gentleman. Maybe ya oughtta take some lessons in 'old-fashioned' mannehs from him, missy, an' keep ya hanky panky noise down ta a level that don't wake tha dead," the grouch sniffed condescendingly. "Ya best count yer blessings that the other two residents on this floor work third shift, 'cause Mistah Lang would be a lot less forgivin' than me. I'm not gonna call da cops this time, but-"

A loud beeping interrupted the grumpy grandma, causing both women to jump involuntarily. On the brick wall adjacent to the front door, the flat-screen tv flickered to life and turned gray in imitation of the glow of Gambit's iPhone, which was urgently vibrating its way across the top of the glass coffee table. Not wanting his nosy neighbor to see the incoming call, Rogue smiled apologetically and tried to look meek. _(7)_

"Well, it was nice ta meet you, ma'am, an' Ah sure do appreciate you leavin' the fuzz outta this. Ah promise there won't be any more loud noises, so you have a nice day, now!" She closed the door quickly to cut off any objections just as the television feed went live, overriding the phone's insistent buzzing.

The mountain of a man that worriedly called out Gambit's name from the living room wall was someone she'd never spoken to in person but knew of all the same.

"You must be Fence," Rogue stated matter-of-factly, acknowledging the Cajun's technology-hustling friend as she shuffled around the back of the couch and faced the tv.

Heavyset, yet handsome in a teddy bear-ish sort of way, the dark-haired man's bushy eyebrows pinched together and his eyes narrowed suspiciously at the interloper in Gambit's home. He studied the defiant young lady and immediately recognized the shock of silvery white that wound through her mussed up hair. "You- you're Rogue, of the X-Men. Right?"

Before she could answer, a look of dread crossed his face and he said in a threatening baritone, "_Waitaminnit_\- are you that crazy, shape shifting blue lunatic, here to mess up the place again?! I warn you, I've got equipment that can tell if-"

"Ah'm not my- Ah'm not Mystique, sugar. And Ah'm with the Avengers now," Rogue interrupted with a snort, flashing an aggrieved smile at his fearful assumption; Gambit must have neglected to mention the familial connection. Plus, the thought of her foster mother aping her form was never a pleasant one...especially after that whole fiasco with Raven's 'Foxx' persona. _(8)_

"Oh! I knew that, actually…I uh, just assumed that 'once an X-Man, always an X-Man'. Or X-Woman, as it were. You know, whatever that credo is that they have. Not that youse guys need a motto, that would be pretty lame," Fence stumbled over his words as he nervously scratched his goatee. "I should shut up now." _(9)_

It was fairly obvious that she made him uncomfortable, which, even though it piqued Rogue's curiosity as to why, didn't showcase his reason for calling. Prompting him politely so that she could get back to checking on the oblivious thief sprawled across the floor of the bedroom, she said, "If this is a social call, Gambit's kind of -ahh- indisposed at the moment."

"_Indisposed_? There's four officers and a fire truck en route to investigate some 'terrorist bombing' 'cuz over a dozen people called 911 at 6:09 this morning. He's gonna want to be _INVISIBLE_ in two minutes! Now, I know all about the incident in the prison and how his power's been actin' weird, but that it only happens when he's all riled up. What the hell happened to get him glowin' like a supernova on my infrared screen?"

Rogue frowned, sheepishly hunching her shoulders and pinching the bridge of her nose; _Of course_ the King of the United Thieves Guilds would have his apartment wired for every type of spectrum known to man. Ugh, he probably had video cameras hidden all over, too. Now she was going to have to explain this horrifically awkward situation to the paramedics, the police _and _the fire department. Oh God..._AND_ the Avengers! Seriously, what had she done to Fate to deserve such bad luck?

"Uhm. There was a cooking accident," she muttered half-heartedly. _Goodbye, dignity. It's been nice knowin' ya. _

Fence noted a guilty glance through her fingers towards the bedroom and couldn't help grinning despite the direness of the situation. Gambit was correct, she was a terrible liar.

"Riiight. You making Cajun hot pockets? His body temp was pushing 105° until a few seconds ago, and I don't see any of the 'bad guy' crowd strutting around in their spandex. Just you...in Remy's robe..." the Hawaiian shirt-clad mutant made a deliberate show of pretending to look around the apartment from his end of the video feed, "Sooo, you must be one helluva '_cook_' to get him so worked up, lil' lady."

The weary brawler blushed furiously even as she stood up straight and clenched her fists in mock offense. Although Fence felt hopelessly out of his league dealing with the Avengers after his experience with War Machine, he quickly found it was irresistible _not _to flirt with her; for such a world-renowned ball buster, she was positively adorable when she was embarrassed.

"Let's just cut the crap an' get down ta brass tacks," she spluttered, glaring heatedly at the image on the screen. "Okay, so Ah made a really dumb mistake and we fooled around, and now he's hurt. You say you've been through this with him before? Great. So how did ya fix him? Ah need ta know if there's anything Ah can do before the E.M.T's show up."

Fence was amused by her sudden forcefulness, admiring the direct way that she dealt with an obviously humiliating quandary instead of throwing a pity party or dissolving into helpless tears. Months had passed since his enigmatic friend had quietly asked him to keep tabs on this heroic paragon of their species and let him know if she got into any situations that she might not be able to get herself out of. At the time, he had wondered about the protectiveness that Gambit had shown regarding the sassy southern wonder. She was nearly always in the company of her teammates, and the few times she wasn't, she was so resourceful that it seemed as though nothing could keep her down for long. It was just plain ironic that she now faced the possibility of heinous character defamation because of her attachment to LeBeau.

"Well… actually, it looks like his core temperature is dropping pretty fast, so I'd say he's probably fixing himself. He likely just needs to sleep it off. And no offense, missy, but you look like you could use a nap yourself. Tell ya what, I'm pretty sure he won't need the paramedics. I can call off Johnny Law and the firefighters, too."

"You have the authority ta do that?!" she asked, hopefulness coloring her tone.

The gruff, barrel-chested man winked before turning to type something off screen. "I own a bakery, sweethaht. You can't make as many donuts as I do and _not _know all'a of Brooklyn's finest on a first name basis! Besides, it's the least I can do for the girl who talked Tony Stark into fixing me after my little run-in with that asshole, Tombstone." _(10)_

For a moment, she just stared. And then she laughed.

"Ha! And here Ah thought you were out cold for that whole exchange," Rogue reminisced, recalling the angry conversation in Fence's intensive care unit with a very irate Iron Man.

When the infamous billionaire had been informed by his second-in-command that Gambit had broken into one of his safehouses, he had demanded that Wolverine come to the hospital and explain his teammate's reasoning. Since Wolverine wasn't available, naturally the Avengers' only other 'damned X-Man' answered the call.

"Your ex-boyfriend might've stolen the self-repairing tech I needed, but I know it was _you_ that intervened on my behalf," Fence said softly.

The heavy weight of unease lifted from her chest; karma was such a beautiful thing. She might escape unscathed from this predicament after all.

"Yeah, well...any of Remy's credibility went right down the drain when he disappeared after talkin' Rhodey inta helping you. Tony was expectin' ta be apologized to in person- his ego is bigger'n that damned tower o' his."

"I doubt they would've let me die, although they really went over and above with the 'repairs'. I haven't felt this good in years!" Fence wasn't looking at her as he talked but he was smiling as he continued to mash buttons just out of view.

"It ain't too hard to use reverse psychology on Stark. All Ah had to do was remind him what it was like ta have to rely on someone else- like, ohhh say, when his chest was chock fulla shrapnel." _(11) _

"Still, _you_ shouldn't have had to apologize for anything. I would've been livid if I had to answer for somebody else's screw ups…and yet somehow you even managed to talk him into providing me with a steady source of income as a black market agent for his R&amp;R department." He paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, then a deep laugh rumbled up from his impressive belly. "It's funny that LeBeau thinks _he's _the one with the silver tongue."

Despite her humble smile, there was smugness in her tone as she said, "Ah find most men are pretty easy ta charm. It's women who really make ya work for it."

"Well, you certainly seem to have charmed the common sense outta Remy," Fence declared as he made one final stab at his keyboard, "There we go, that should call them off. If anyone asks, youse guys were the unfortunate victims of an exploding lava lamp. And you put it out with a fire extinguisher. Sound good?"

"Thank you, Fence. Ah swear Ah'm not normally this bad at makin' judgment calls. You're a lifesaver."

"No thanks necessary, Rogue. I know you and dummy don't always see eye to eye, but I'm glad that you still look out for his dopey ass after all the crap youse have been through. He appreciates it too, even though he might not say so. Do me a favor though- whenever he wakes up, can you tell him I've got the intel on that uh, mission he wanted?"

"Sure thang, sugar. Ah'll hit him everywhere but his mouth, so at least he can talk when he calls ya back." Rogue's reply was that of wry indulgence; she knew dang well that the bearded con artist was referring to a thieving job.

Fence pursed his lips and his dark eyebrows shot up in a comical 'Ooooh, Gambit's in for it!' expression. "Boy, I'm glad I'm on your _good_ side, lady! Take care, ok? I'm really glad I finally got to meet you in person. Er, well, _digital_ person, anyway."

She smiled again and waved goodbye, not waiting for the call to end as she hurried back to the bedroom. Oliver, who had _just_ bravely ventured past the threshold to investigate the worrisome smells emanating from his master's sleeping area, promptly turned tail and ran back out before Rogue could catch him, his little feet scrabbling on the wooden floor as he raced back to the safety of the living room. Shutting the door behind her, she found Gambit tucked into a tight ball and shivering violently.

_I'm glad he has SOME devoted friends_, she thought as she gingerly sidestepped the broken glass and immediately stripped off the bathrobe, so that she could drape the warmest thing in the room over him, _Most all of the people he deals with would throw him under the bus an' not think twice about it._

The frozen thief leaned against her legs when she knelt beside him, his eyes remaining squeezed shut. Most of the smoke had dissipated, leaving him and everything in the room coated in soot.

Through lips that were a pale blue and teeth that chattered like a typewriter, he murmured haltingly, "P-please t-tell m-me we're n-no' d-dead…"

"Not quite yet, hon," Rogue said as she vigorously rubbed her palms on the backs of his shoulders, the friction creating much-needed heat.

"B-Bien. K-kinda wishin' I w-was t-though," he gritted out. "I-I c-can' m-moof."

Too busy trying to work some warmth into his body, she didn't answer.

The last time Gambit had experienced this level of exhaustion was when he burned out all of his excess powers fighting his New Son doppelganger. He'd needed every iota of his Omega level ability to take down the psychopath, and for days afterward he'd dealt with crippling exhaustion. This time felt different, though. A tangy taste of blood was the first thing he'd experienced upon waking up, followed by a bone-deep chill that unpleasantly reminded him of a certain soul crushing trip to Antarctica. His guts were on fire while the rest of his sprained muscles begged for release from the contractions brought on by the unorthodox power re-absorption. It felt like his entire body was seized up in a massive charlie horse. Rogue's desperate grip during sex had left gouges along his shoulder blades that were stinging painfully thanks to her current ministrations, but the heat from her hands felt so good that he didn't care.

At length, he asked quietly, "D-did you k-knock me ou' or d-did I?"

His masseuse paused to glance down at him, insulted. Her relief at seeing him conscious again was quickly being replaced by the contempt she'd felt at his accidental slip-up after the bombs went off. "YOU knocked you out, jackass. Although Ah still might."

Miserable as he was, Gambit fought the urge to smile. "I-I said I was sorry. I w-was tryinna...puh-proteck you. You clenthed up…you know wha' dat does ta m-me…"

Rogue slowly resumed the rub-down, working her way to his icy legs.

"Did you bite your tongue?" she asked, mirth evident in her tone.

He finally opened his tired eyes and twisted his torso a little so that he could stare disapprovingly up at her from under the damp hair that clung to his ashen face. It would've been far more effective if he didn't bear such a striking resemblance to roadkill.

"It's n-no' funny, R-rug."

The way he mispronounced her name prompted an inappropriate snort laugh from the 'rug' in question.

"Ya right, it's not funny. It's hilarious."

Sizing up the frazzled beauty who found his pathetic state so entertaining, he shook his sweat-soaked head. "_D-Dieu_, yoah a m-mean ol' po'caff (polecat)."

"Please stop trying ta talk, Remy," Rogue's lips were twitching as she stopped to take a break and sat back on her haunches. She shook out her fingers to ease the prickling sensation, noting how her hands had turned blacker than the day she'd forgotten her work gloves and had to put an old Indian bike back together.

"Why? I thoth you luffed muh accen', ctherie," the X-Man deadpanned, taking the opportunity to tentatively uncurl his limbs now that the uncontrollable shaking had finally slowed.

"_Good Lord_. An' here Ah didn't think you could _possibly_ butcher the English language any worse."

Ignoring her, he very carefully pushed himself into a sitting position, grunting when the joints in his knees and elbows creaked and popped in protest. An unladylike sound, something between a snigger and a snort, made him turn to look questioningly at his antagonist. Misty eyed with merriment, she had jammed the still-bruised knuckles of her right hand into her mouth while modestly covering her breasts with the other arm, her whole body quaking in an effort to contain her humor. If he wasn't so damned exhausted, the sight of her prim posture and flushed cheeks would have been an open invite to scoop her into his arms and squeeze the smartass out of her.

"Yuh _such_ a jerk, woman. I can' belief dat yo' pickin' on me righ' now."

"...sure you're all right there, _Edward_?" She blurted out, choking on her laughter.

"Whuh…?" He squinted uncomprehendingly at her, worriedly thinking, _Uh oh. She's finally snapped from fatigue..._

Unable to speak, she grinned childishly and pointed at his right arm, which was sticking out from under the dirty bathrobe and sparkling gayly in the shaft of sunlight that streamed through the jagged windowpanes. Apparently, when she had rolled him onto his back he had gathered quite the dusting of glass powder. He turned his wrist this way and that, studying the strange phenomenon for a moment before turning back to his ex-girlfriend with a solemn expression that belied the amusement in his voice.

"Twiligh'? Seriously? Don' you effer... _EFFER_...call me a nerd again. You jus' los' the priff'lige (privilege)."

* * *

__Wow, I can't believe it's been a whole year since Remender saw fit to ruin everyone's Thanksgiving!_ I most sincerely apologize for taking so long to get this story jumpstarted again. After I posted that last chapter, a surprising amount of people thought it was over thanks to my unfortunate wording of the last line. I'm not gonna lie, I was sorely tempted to roll with it and give up because I've been obsessing over Romy so intensely for the last fourteen months that I'm kinda burned out. It doesn't help that we've seen so little of them in the comics. Hell, the only glimpse of them together was the scene in Nightcrawler #8, where they were playing pool in Kurt's fantasy Danger Room scene. When such a level of industry-wide disinterest is combined with a job that has become very emotionally draining and a life that has gone in the opposite direction of where I intended to be at this age... well... suffice to say, it's been a bit of a struggle to keep writing and drawing. That's the great thing about well-written comic books, though; the characters push their limits, and in doing so, they inspire me to do the same.  
_

_Thanks to everyone who posted their comments, and I'm truly flattered that so many of you enjoyed the artwork! There were one or two who don't have clickable usernames, so I'm sorry I can't PM you to reply to your reviews :( _

_1)_ _UXM #236, "Welcome to Genosha"._

__2) I'm not sure whether that's still the case with Professor Pryde, since first she had to consciously control it, then she didn't, then she did again. For the sake of this story let's all assume that it IS a concerted effort for Kitty, mmkay?__

__3) I think Mags was probably still a little burnt up about his lackluster performance the night before, in X-Men Legacy #248.__

__4) _Antony Ellis, fake knight of the realm who kissed the Queen and stole Excalibur ;) Gambit Vol. 5 #5.___

____5) Mad props to LizzieTurbo and KineticallyCharmed for their hilarious and delightfully insightful stories, especially 'The Brilliant mind of Rogue' and 'The Beautiful mind of Katherine Pryde', which have brought me to tears of laughter many times. I re-read them whenever I'm feeling really down and they always cheer me up. Viva la pancakes! LOL.____

___6) ____Astonishing X-Men #48 (ish).____ _I still don't think that Gambit &amp; CeCe actually had sex- Liu was writing him as a big teddy bear at the time, so their friendship came across as platonic cuddle buddies to me. Feel free to prove me wrong, though- I haven't read all of the Astonishing series so there are more than a few holes in my knowledge of what actually happened. Also, if you're familiar with Gambit's apartment layout, you may be asking yourself why he didn't sleep in the spare room. Don't worry, I'll cover it in the next chapter!  
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____7) _Yeah yeah, I know in Gambit v5 issue #8, it says 'ePhone' for copyright reasons. But I am under no such compunction to capitulate to infringement laws here in Spas-land! Well, other than acknowledging that the characters used here belong to Marvel, anyway. Except for Mrs. Olsen, her grumpy old ass is all mine.  
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_____8) X-Men #173-174. _____

_____9) _Yup, in my world Fence has a New Yawker accent. Also, I couldn't find any references explicitly stating that he is a mutant. It would make so much more sense, though.______

______10) _Gambit v5 issue #13._______

_______11) _Tales of suspense #39, I believe. I dunno, I'm not 616 Iron Man's biggest fan so I'm going with sketchy Google info here. All I know is Tony is oooooold.________


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